


Pyromania

by Vanderhyde



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Dagger Proficiency, Electrokinesis, Frerard, I'm Sorry, Multi, Pyrotechnic, Tantojutsu, Telekinesis, Telepath, Telepathic Abilities, brallon, love you, petekey, pyrokinesis, very short chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-05-26 11:44:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 35,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6237292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanderhyde/pseuds/Vanderhyde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank Iero is a whore. Literally.<br/>Gerard Way is an irresponsible, gay older brother.<br/>Mikey Way is a weirdo.<br/>Ray Toro is a very stereotypical Superman. Minus the flying part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The prologue is in Frank's POV, for the rest I'm gonna use third person POV

He lifted my chin up to make me stare back into his hazel eyes, the same pair I have, only my left eye was scarred with a slash wound from the mid of the top lid to my cheekbone.

“Have you taken your medication?” he asked, examining my face for new blemishes and flaws.

I tensed, not enough to let him see.

“Yes, I have.” I lied, after he released my face.

“Good.” He said, faking a smile that dispersed into the air as soon as it appeared.

“You don’t want to freak out your clients with your _abilities,_ not _again_ , at least,” he stated, chuckling wryly under his breath as he poured his scotch into a shallow glass.

I smiled broadly, my eyes dropping to stare at the grey carpeted floor, the earrings dangling from my earlobe tickling my neck as I shifted my head down low.

Of course I lied.

I wouldn’t want my _abilities_ to go numb by some pills,

My mind knows better than anyone does.

It has kept me safe and alive since elementary school.

Yet now here I am.

Being a goddamned _escort._

Pleasing random men that comes and goes to use me as they want.

_Pathetic._

I got into this line of business since my father practically owned it, knowing he has a very good looking son with no mother and nowhere to live nor run away to.

Plus, my sexuality makes it very easy for my father to manipulate it, making men that has very large tendencies for _other_ men spend their cash on seeing someone half naked on stage.

Of course, there _are_ policies. Dad wouldn’t practically turn me into a prostitute.

‘Strictly no sex.’ Is first on the list. In capital, red, angry letters. And the full-stop to make it crystal clear.

But beside that, like maybe skinny dipping in my clients’ pool, stripping shamelessly, or just engaging in Skype sex was an everyday job.

Well, I get paid pretty damn huge for it too. And besides, I wouldn’t want my dad to go back to his abusive self. That was what caused the scar on my face. 

A reckless seventeen year old boy whose mother just passed away, fighting his drunken father only to get slashed in the face with a box cutter.

He still beats me, occasionally. When I can't seem to do something right or when I just don't feel like being cooperative. Or when I decide to fuck my clients. Oops(?)

I’m not even sure what I’m still doing here.

I know how to drive.

I have plenty of cash saved up from when I started working here a year ago.

My monthly pay isn’t cheap, you know.

But I have this very huge feeling—well, my mind convinces me anyway—that something just needs my patience. Something will occur in my life, someone will walk into it, someone would walk out of it.

Especially when my mind decides on teasing me with images of this man that I would fall in love with.

_Patience…_

It would whisper every time I have the urge to run away.

And honestly?

I trusted my mind more than I should have.

“Frank.” My father snapped me out of my trance.

I blinked several times before noticing the curtains implying for me to step onstage were starting to open, revealing a spotlight shining to the mid of the stage. My father’s assistant handed over a black polka-dotted umbrella and a masquerade mask.

My heart thumped in my chest.

I guess it was _stripping_ tonight.

I patted down my messy brown locks, the make-up smeared on my face taunting me as I stared back at my reflection in the mirror.

My eyes were rimmed with thick, black eyeliner, making the green-yellow irises of my eyes stand out, my eyelids decorated with purple and silver eye shadow, tan contour adorning my cheekbones. My scar wasn’t concealed tonight, instead was lined with a few glitter. My lip piercing was taken out for tonight, leaving a ruby red nose ring attached to my nose.

I took a deep breath before pulling down my red and black masquerade mask, tugging on my garter and corset, lace panties to complete the whole look.

_You’re a whore._

My mind said, screaming at me to slash my father’s face with the sharp end of my polka-dotted umbrella.

_Shut up._

I urged back, closing my eyes before stepping onstage, my red high heels making loud noises as I strutted onstage, twirling the umbrella with two fingers as I crossed my legs over each other, my tongue sticking out to graze against my bottom lip, capturing it between my teeth, grazing my palm over my crotch like the good whore I am.

Already, around ten men in the front row threw cash at me to take off my mask.

“My beautiful Frankie!!”

One screamed.

I cringed. I hated that nickname.

But I hid my discomfort, instead put on a show good enough and pray to god I don’t accidentally read someone’s mind or turn them mind-dead and collapse on the floor with a seizure. _Again._


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'XoStaticMonster' gives me a cringe attack  
> I'm gonna come up with something else soon!  
> .  
> Italic paragraph is a flashback in Frank's point of view

If given the chance, Gerard Way would prefer to be a comic book artist. Maybe a cartoon illustrator. Or an art teacher, _anything_ that involves art, honestly.

But all his hope died when his parents did. In a house fire.

Now he lives with his one year younger brother, Mikey Way.

Well, at least _Mikey’s_ somewhat living. But not Gerard.

He’s talking, he’s breathing, he’s walking. He eats, he smiles, he acts like everything is fine when in all honesty he’s just dead inside.

He never wanted to be accepted as someone _normal_ as much as he is surrounded by his own.

Mikey convinced Gerard that Ray was just the same as them, that Ray would help them get through all this. Gerard approved at first, just because he had never seen Mikey so excited to live with someone before.

Ray Toro was Gerard’s high school friend.

Ray Toro was the first to reach out to the Ways when he heard that they are now homeless, seeming that they were now orphans, and their grandmother died around five years ago. He felt sorry for them. But he knew how much Gerard Way hated people feeling sorry for him.

He had a feeling from the start that Gerard Way was someone who doesn’t mess around. But after the incident of his parents’ death, he’s become colder. He never talks, he smiles only around Mikey, not even his smile reaches his eyes.

Gerard Way was dead inside and Ray Toro knows it.

Ray has tall, firm build, but no one could believe their eyes when Ray lifted a car a few centimeters off the ground, or even when he punched a hole right through his bedroom wall in middle school.

He didn’t know how that endangers the rest of his kind, a stupid, reckless mistake that made his mother realize that Ray Toro was indeed one of the _Indigos_.

Indigo, a color that seem to be abnormal and some think to be a hideous shade.

Indigo, a group of young adults that has seen to have _abnormalities_ and some think to be a horrendous and frightening group of people.

So horrendous that people hunt them down silently behind everyone’s back. The next you know there was a missing person report or someone reported dead. Oh so quietly. Oh so secretly.

By the time Ray's parents realized he was a reject, an _Indigo_ , they helped him with everything he needed, everything in their power to keep Ray safe.

_Michael Way, twenty two years old, Indigo._

Mikey never understood why people called him an Indigo. In his opinion he was just a normal walking and talking young adult.

He couldn’t read people’s minds. He doesn’t have super strength like Ray does, he certainly can’t kill a man. But why has he been entitled as an Indigo?

He also never understood how people hate on Indigos so much. Sure, you’ve seen a few in the news, _Boy with super powers killed the great ambassador of Indonesia in a so-called accidental homicide._

Mikey knew that boy on the news. Mikey knew him as a childhood friend, Mikey knew him as a good man. He remembered the executioner's face as he shot the young man in front of the city hall, his death leaving the crowd to cheer for the death of an abnormal. Mikey even knew his _name_. And it wasn’t because the news channels have been blaring on and on about him, shaming him and disgracing him when honestly he’s just another helpless kid who doesn’t know what was going on with his head.

Mikey knew him as Kellin Quinn.

The rest of the Indigos knew him as Red Hot.

The people knew him as the boy that could shoot lasers from his eyes.

And thus began the running.

The fleeing away every once in a while when a state was having a sweep of Indigos.

Their move pattern has always been the same, New Jersey, New York, Baltimore, New York, back to New Jersey. Ray has houses in the three states. At least they were safe as long as they had Ray Toro.

Or so Mikey Way thought.

* * *

 

Frank Iero was never one to fight back every time something happens. Not until middle school, at least.

It happened when he was thirteen, the voices in his head. He wasn’t sure even if those voices belonged to him, and he wasn’t sure how he made his mother change her mind about cold cereal breakfast that morning.

He had walked straight into a hallway fight, he blamed himself for having earphones in set too loud for him to ignore the noises in his head. He just didn’t want to listen to them. If he would have, he could have gone crazy.

He bumped into the class jock, Bob Bryar, who didn’t at all thought Frank’s mistake was funny.

What ever happened next was a blur.

He saw what was coming before Bob's fist collided with his jaw. He ducked under, kicking his lower back as Bob fell face first on the hallway floor.

Frank didn’t even know he was fighting back before his mind and body decided against it.

He dodged all the hits at first, reasoning- still- that he didn’t want a fight.

But soon he was already on his feet, his mind reacting faster than his limbs ever could, twisting his opponent's wrist, shattering it in one move and pinning him to the ground back first, throwing three punches to his face, making him stop his movement as he blacked out from Frank’s hits.

Frank got suspended that day.

Then when he was in high school, he was apparently the ‘emo faggot’.

He received his part of beating almost every single day, coming home with new bruises and broken bones, bloodied-face and black eyes.

And when he was sixteen, his mother asked him to sit down on the dining room table with her to talk something out. Frank remembered the warmth emitting from his mother's hand over his, the way her eyes glimmered under the dim light. And he certainly remember the exact words his mother had said when she revealed she had cancer.

On the next day Frank got a concussion from getting his head slammed into a locker. Yet now he wondered why his mind hadn’t fight back.

And when he was seventeen, he saw his friend Kellin on the news, claiming that Kellin had _superpowers._ Not only that, but Kellin killed the great ambassador of Indonesia.

Kellin could never kill.

Frank was sure of that.

Then why is the media saying otherwise?

That doesn’t matter anyway. Kellin is dead. So was his mother.

The only person Frank thought he could connect with about their abnormalities was dead. The only person that cared about him has died. Lifeless in a red and black mahogany coffin. The same beautiful face of his mother that he knew so well, minus the lively look in her eyes, minus the warm blush that rose on her cheeks every time Frank complimented her. Dead.

He couldn't even remember the last conversation he had with his mother.

He couldn't remember what they did the day before she died, or the day before that.

He can hardly remember his mother. And he didn't even knew why.

Frank had no hope. No hope at all.

When he was turning eighteen, the voices in his head grew louder, so loud Frank wanted to cry.

He never asked for his friends to take him to the club to celebrate his legality, he never asked for the voices to be so damned _loud._

But then there he was, his eighteenth birthday, no mother, no job, just his friend Alex and Jack. And a very drunken man offering him a drink.

_“Do you mind if I buy you a drink?” he asked, his eyes slurred as he stared into mine._

_Besides his voice, there was someone else I could hear in my head. It definitely_ was _him. But he couldn’t have said two sentences at the same time._

_I squinted my eyes, the voices in my head muting silently as I tried to focus on this man’s voice. “What did you say?” I tested._

_“I said, can I buy you a drink?” he chuckled._

_The voice in my head grew louder._

_’would be damn shameful if someone decides to take you to the alley and fuck you senseless against the fucking wall…’_

_I flinched. The man’s lips had barely moved, yet I managed to hear his voice in my head. And his intentions weren’t very nice. Heck I would've punched him square in the jaw if I wanted to start a bar fight and get beaten up to an inch of my life.  
_

_But I didn't, Instead I replied him rather loudly._

_“No thank you. Wouldn’t want you to slip a Mickey Finn in my drink.” I said, stepping off the stool and leaving him agape._

_I soon found my friends, Alex and Jack by the dance floor, and I tugged them outside the club, rushing home as I processed the new found ability I’ve yet learned to control._

_The voices in my head wasn’t me going crazy._

_The voices in my head are the sound of other people’s thoughts._


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How to long chapters I cri  
> .  
> XoXvl

Gerard woke up to a start.

He had a nightmare. Again.

One about being engulfed in flames, the smell of burning skin filling the air as he tried not to breathe in smoke. He tried to scream for help, the act almost impossible when he couldn’t even open his mouth without feeling the burn in the back of his throat.

But he knew that it was a lie.

He knew it wasn’t possible unless he had lost his abnormality.

Gerard jolted from his bed, hands outstretched before him as he stared down at the palm of his hands, his feet dragging aimlessly toward the full body mirror across from his bed.

He looked up at his reflection, his almost golden hazel examining his own skin for any new burn marks.

But to no avail, as always.

He ran his hand through his long brown locks, the ones he had just trimmed a few weeks prior.

Then he focused his gave back on his right hand. Snapping his fingers as fire conjured from thin air on the tip of his thumb.

He sighed, closing his eyes and tracing the glowing flame with his left hand, then all at once blanketed his own finger with his left palm.

It would burn other people, but for Gerard, it _was_ fire he was capable of controlling.

He could withstand the pleasant burn of the flames. What he _couldn’t_ stand was the heat of rushing water and or snow. This was why summer was his favorite season and winter was where he would just huddle in the house near the stove or go somewhere that hasn’t got snow altogether.

But of course, he never had trips outside of the states. That would be crazy. Just think what the people would think if Gerard suddenly exposes himself as an Indigo somewhere _outside_ the states. They would probably burn him at a stake or something like that.

Oh wait, that won’t work. Maybe they’ll shoot him dead, just like that boy Kellin Quinn.

“Gerard!”

Gerard groaned, taking one last look at his sleep-deprived face, the bags under his hazel eyes, his brown hair brushing over his shoulders messily. He ruffled it, feeling like he was missing something with the hair. He huffed as he turned away from his reflection to grab a Black Flag shirt on his bed, tugging it over his head and walking out the door to be greeted by Mikey.

“Good morning.” Gerard greeted, walking passed him and climbed downstairs where Ray was sitting by the breakfast bar, an Xbox controller in his hand as his eyes focused on the flat TV screen mounted on the wall.

“Hey Gerard, you’re up early.” He stated, his eyes never leaving the screen. “Hm…” was all Gerard said as a response, taking a slice of toast and a butter knife, spreading Nutella on his piece of toast. “I’m surprised Mikey didn’t wake me up from my dream today.” Gerard stated, taking a bite off his Nutella covered toast.

Ray paused his game to stare meaningfully at Gerard. “Mikey said you told him not to, since you feel like it’s weird,”

“Yeah well, he could just walk in and tell me that it’s just a dream. Calm me down a bit.” He replied bluntly. “Take it easy on your brother Gerard, he doesn’t know how to control his abilities like you and I. He just starts strutting into someone’s dream and change what he would. Hurt them there and hurt them in real life. Maybe he just doesn’t wanna hurt you.”

Ray had stopped talking for Mikey walked into the dining room, smile ever-present on his face, his glasses on the bridge of his nose. Gerard rolled his eyes at Ray’s statement and continued nibbling down on his toast whilst Ray resumed his game. Which looked a lot like Grand Theft Auto.

“Hey Gerard,” Mikey said softly, placing a mug of coffee on Gerard’s table.

Gerard hummed as a response, looking up to meet Mikey’s eyes. “It’s Dallon’s birthday today, he’s asking me to come to his party, and to take you and Ray with me. Do you feel like it?”

Gerard merely shrugged. He never liked socializing like Mikey did, but Dallon was one of his friends, and he would feel bad if he didn’t show up for a simple house party. Mikey smiled and ruffled his older brother’s hair affectionately. “Thank you,” he whispered, placing a kiss on his forehead.

Gerard flinched. Mikey had never showed raw affection toward him. Maybe agreeing to go out on a social activity was a very big step for Mikey. Gerard forced a broad smile on his face and swallowed the last of his toast, sipping his coffee right after and stood up.

“I’m gonna take a shower, kay?” Gerard stated. He started walking toward the stairs before Mikey called out to him again. “Oh, and Gerard?”

Gerard looked over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of Mikey grinning widely like an idiot.

“I’m taking you shopping today, get dressed after you’re done with your shower.”

Gerard almost groaned, but he held back, respecting his brother’s wishes with a nod as he started walking up the stairs and into his dark bedroom.

* * *

 

Frank scrambled on all fours away from his father. “Where do you think you’re going?!” he exclaimed, pulling Frank back by the foot. Frank yelped as his torso was dragged across the rough carpet, enough to give him ugly carpet burns.

“Dad, please don’t. I didn’t _do anything!”_ Frank yelled, covering his face with his hands. His father yanked his hands away from his face, revealing the tears staining his cheeks.

Without thinking twice, his father backhanded his face, sending Frank to fall sideways to the carpeted floor. “Want to be a little whore now, do you?” his father growled, throwing a punch at Frank’s head, kicking his back.

Frank arched his spine, trying to limp away from his father. “I didn’t do it! Why don’t you believe me!?”

Frank’s father held his hand up high, ready to assault him more, when Frank spoke on the top of his lungs. “If you didn’t want me to be a whore you should’ve let me commit suicide right after Mom died!”

His father froze. And he regretted what he said right after it spilled form his pierced lips.

“You little piece of fucking shit,” his father mumbled, yanking on his hair to get on his knees. “Your mother died cause she chose to.”

“No.” Frank said to gritted teeth. _Shut up you idiot!_ His mind screamed.

“She died cause you wouldn’t pay for her chemo.”

_Now you’ve done it_

Frank awaited the worst, his father’s fist connecting with his jaw, thoughts of murder dancing in his mind when Frank tried to look past his father’s expressions, expecting to find guilt. But he didn’t find guilt, all he found in his father’s thoughts were just images of him slitting Frank’s throat or just punching him to the inch of his life.

Frank sobbed into his hand after his father had left him alone, his head a mess of jumbled thoughts of suicide and murder.

One thought screamed as loud as Frank could hear, chanting the same phrase over and over again.

_I’m running away tonight…_

_I’m running away tonight…_

_I’m sorry._

_I don’t have the patience to wait for the love of my life_

_I’m running away tonight._


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still trying to make longer chapters, and I apologize for poor grammar and vocab.  
> XoXvl

Mikey Way never found himself attractive.

He had low confidence, not to mention a very bad self-esteem.

Mikey always wanted to feel good about himself, he always did. But unfortunately, as cliche as it sounds, he was the weird kid back in high school. The one that never touched himself because he thought it was weird to pleasure yourself in any way. And he didn’t feel the need to pleasure himself for he felt like he wasn’t worth the self love.

But then there was Gerard, making everything he wore look good on him.

Mikey was wordlessly jealous of his older brother, but he never showed it.

He thought his abnormality was cool, that no one could do what he does.

_Mikey Way, the boy who travels through people’s dreams._

What a catch.

But then, when he saw Gerard playing with fire, tossing it between his hands, he was in awe, at the same time disappointed.

In awe since he wasn’t the only one with abnormalities, and he wasn’t alone.

Disappointed since he wasn’t the only one with abnormalities, and Gerard has it better than him.

That doesn’t stop the love he felt for his older brother, instead it gave him this very amazing image of Gerard as the one that would protect him when bullies hit him in the hallways, or maybe they could fight an army of bad guys back to back, even though Mikey can’t really do much in the field.

And even though Gerard gets his own round of beatings almost daily in school.

Yeah, they wouldn't be the best superhero partners, would they?

But Mikey believed in that image of Gerard when he could withstand the burn of the flames that engulfed their house, Mikey being the first one Gerard rescued, but then regretted right after for he hadn’t got the chance to save their parents before the roof collapsed altogether, crashing what ever the inferno was burning to the ground.

Meanwhile Mikey, just sobbed over what he lost, without even trying to help his parents out of the burning building.

Mikey had always tried to apologize to Gerard, he'd say that if maybe he could've saved himself, Gerard could've saved their parents. Gerard always brushes it off, saying that it was nothing and there was nothing Mikey could ever had done. Mikey felt useless. He was fucking twenty years old when it happened, and he would've done something, he _could've_ done something. But he didn't.

Gerard had shut down during that year. He literally didn’t speak a word to anyone. He would even tell people he just met that he was mute with hand signs. For two years, he didn't even communicate with Mikey. He just goes "yeah" "okay" and "mhm". That wasn't exactly communicating.

But now his brother was out of their house, wearing something other than his fucking sweatpants, and Mikey couldn’t be happier.

Gerard goes out sometimes, only for food, or maybe buy coffee when he really need to. But here he was, sitting on the passenger’s seat as Mikey drove the car, his brother messing with the radio frequencies, wishing to hear his favorite band on the radio. Which Mikey knew was impossible.

He'd always be waiting for the radios to play his favorite band, but no. The world was too puny for his awesome music taste. Makes him weep tears of joy.

Gerard settled on jamming Iron Maiden out loud through his brother’s AUX chord, silently mouthing the lyrics as his head moved back on forth in perfect symmetry.

Mikey was to make sure the cooler in his Range Rover wasn’t turned up to max, since Gerard disliked the cold. He looked upon the road to even be grateful for the car he was driving.

Ray gave it to him as a birthday gift when he turned twenty-one.

No, Ray wasn’t his boyfriend or anything like that. Ray was just a very close friend, his _best friend._ One to first offer his time and effort to take in the Way brothers. No strings attached. Mikey acted like Ray was his own brother, but Gerard has a very hard time accepting that Ray just wants to help out of the kindness of his heart, he was used to the term _an eye for an eye_.

So Gerard disliked Ray for the whole first year they lived together. Not that Gerard did anything to _show_ that he disliked Ray, he just glare at him a lot and roll his eyes at his statements a lot. Not that Ray notices. But Mikey does though. He notices a lot of things.

Mikey would often shoot a look at Gerard when he silently mouths ‘fuck you’ at Ray, or flip the bird at him silently, or under the table when Ray decides to talk about video games or Shakespeare. And Ray talks about Shakespeare _a lot_.

But time after time, eventually Gerard took in Ray as he was, super-strength and all. What Gerard _didn’t_ like- still – was how Ray always tries to get him out of the house. Once even asking whether Gerard wants to go to a strip club on his birthday.

Of course Gerard had rejected, only because he wasn’t too attracted to boobs and v-jay-jays and girls in general. Well, he had relationships with a girl, _yes._ He thought girls were attractive, _yes._ But it was before he fell into his mute state and before he even realized he was a flaming homosexual. He could be bisexual though, but he wasn’t even sure of his own sexuality, how was he going to be sure of anything else? And besides, he lost all feeling right after 2/3 of his world burned to the ground into ashes.

“Hey, Mikey?” Gerard asked in a small voice, one Mikey could almost miss behind the speakers blaring _The Number of the Beast_ by Iron Maiden.

“Yeah?” Mikey asked, eyes not leaving the road.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

Mikey’s eyes darted to Gerard, widening.

That was the most brother thing Gerard had ever said to him. And Gerard didn’t even talk much.

“What did you say?” Gerard raised an eyebrow.

Oh crap he didn’t realize he said that out loud.

“Um... No, Gerard, no I don’t.” He replied, eyes focusing back on the road, his clammy palm clutching the steering wheel.

“Why though? I mean, you’re so good looking and tall--”

Mikey laughed out loud at his brother’s statement. “Yeah, no.”

Gerard cocked his head to one side, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Girls don’t dig the mind powers, bro.” Mikey said, his heart rate increasing rather extremely at the embarrassing fact.

“They so do.”

“No they don’t, Gerard.”

“Well _make_ them dig it!”

“I don’t know _how_ to make them dig it, I can’t _force_ them to dig it, that’d be worse than rape!”

Gerard started laughing out loud, clutching his stomach as his torso bend over his thighs. The sound was alien. It was rare. And it was very contagious. Mikey found his heart swelling at the sound of Gerard’s laugh, and he as well, laughed aloud.

“You make them dig it, be like ‘I’ll see you in my dreams’ and visit them for fucking real in their dreams, they’d wake up all ‘hey, I dreamed of you’ and shit.”

Mikey continued laughing, taking a turn into a boulevard, his eyes scanning the shops.

“Have you ever done that though, Gerard?”

“What? Wish a girl a goodnight? Yeah, of course I have!”

“No I was talking bout you talking to a girl, have you ever done that?”

Gerard snickered and fisted Mikey’s side, their laughs erupting once more in the car.

The moment passed, The Smashing Pumpkins now being the only thing filling the silence in their car.

Gerard opened his mouth to say something else, but closed it when Mikey took a sharp turn and parked in front of a dimly lit shop.

“We’re here. Do you wanna stay in the car or come with me?” Mike asked, unbuckling his seat belt.

“What are we doing here?” Gerard asked, reading the flickering shop sign.

“We’re shopping.” Mikey smiled, killing the engine and stepping out of the car.

“Don’t ask whether I wanna stay in the car or not if you’re just gonna make choices for me then,” Gerard muttered under his breath, grabbing his worn out leather jacket in the backseat and getting out of the car.

Rain started pouring the second Gerard stepped out of Mikey’s car, making him hiss and groan in hatred. He put his jacket over his head, marching over to where Mikey was.

“Not a fan of water.” Gerard said to no one in particular, taking Mikey’s hand and pulling him into the shop with him. Mikey’s eyes widened at Gerard’s gesture. Which was the second most brother thing Gerard has done in the span of half an hour.

Gerard stopped walking and peered behind the shoulders, letting go of Mikey’s hand when he saw his face. “Sorry.” Gerard muttered. Mikey shook his head.

“I don’t mind, your hand’s warm.” Mikey replied his brother, putting his hand in the older brother’s. Gerard smiled, this smile almost reaching his eyes.

“I’m gonna go here,” Gerard stated, pointing at an aisle of jackets. Mikey let go of his brother’s warm hand. “Okay,” Mikey smiled, walking in the other direction.

Gerard met Mikey in front of the fitting rooms, a shirt in Mikey’s hand, and three jackets in Gerard’s.

“Dude you gotta buy something else _other_ than jackets, come on.” Mikey said, crossing his arms.

“But Mikes! I’m a jacket slut!” Gerard said, pouting.

“You can buy _one_ jacket. The others gotta be something new and not an outerwear.”

“Help me pick?”

They got out of the certain shop with two bags in hand, one shirt for Mikey, a jacket for Gerard. It wasn't a view _anyone_ would see, Gerard Way and Mikey Way coming out of shops chatting, paper bags in hand. And Mikey was also pleased at the fact that as soon as they got in the car, Gerard started talking. His brother was never this talkative around him, and Mikey was liking the comfort of Gerard’s voice in his ear.

He was happy to have a brother to be with.

If Gerard had died in the fire, Mikey wouldn’t be here. And not because no one saved him. It’s because he wouldn’t face a universe without a brother nor parents. And Mikey was damn grateful for Gerard’s existence.

If only Gerard knew how much he mattered to Mikey.


	5. Chapter Four

Shopping spree ended by the time the mall Gerard and Mikey was in started to close. The two boys stumbling over their own feet, the darkness surrounding them as they walked together toward the car, chatting and laughing time after time, shopping bags on their wrists as they held hands.

People would’ve thought they were couples. Eloping and running away from homophobic parents who doesn't approve over their sexuality.

Nope. Just two brothers hanging out after two years of minimum contact. Even though they were living under the same roof. Someone turn this into a soap opera, it’s a good plot.

Mikey was even considering to tell Gerard that he was gay, and that was one big deal for Mikey. Confessing his sexuality to someone means trusting that person. Trusting that person's judgement, trusting that person's certain opinion on the matter, putting their relationship on the line just because of what sexually attracts one individual. It's kinda harsh to think that once you title your own sexuality, you'll have to think of everyone else' perspective over you. How they view you, how they put you in certain conditions, how they label you, how they  _respect_ and  _treat_ you. That's stressing Mikey out the most.

He opened his mouth to confess, to get it off his chest and trust his own brother as a person, but not before Gerard cut off his thoughts.

“Hey, Mikes?” Gerard broke the silence in the car. Gerard didn’t have his phone connected to the speakers, his phone died a few minutes ago. Making it so much more awkward and tense around the two.

“Y-Yeah?”

“Can I tell you something?”

“And that is?”

“I think I’m _gay_.”

Gerard spat out the word like it was something no one has ever done before, something no one has ever heard, and Gerard felt guilty over his sexuality. He felt disgusting and horrid like how the homophobic people always describe homosexuals to be like.

Mikey let the silence ring around them for too long, much too long, long enough for panic to start rising inside Gerard's guts, his eyes widening and his mouth quivering slightly, ready over Mikey’s judgment.

“Or not, or I’m bisexual, or I’m purely gay, I don’t know, I—“ Gerard panicked.

“That’s okay,” Mike replied, shooting a smile at Gerard.

“I am too,” Mikey continued, making sure his eyes locked with Gerard’s.

Gerard breathed a sigh of relief and an exasperated laugh. “Oh my god that was better than I thought it would be.”

“Yeah,” Mikey laughed, pulling into their house’s driveway.

“I love you, brother.” Mikey said, his hands leaving the steering wheel.

“No homo, baby brother, but I love you too.”

Mikey snorted as Gerard burst out laughing, undoing his seat belt and stepping out the car.

Mikey huffed and threw his head against the plush headrest, undoing is seat belt as he stroked the car’s dashboard. “Sleep well, baby.” He whispered to his beloved 2015 Evoque.

He stepped out of the car to grab the shopping bags by the trunk. Carrying all of them for Gerard was an irresponsible, gay older brother.

But Ray has made his way into the driveway before Mikey could tell Gerard not to knock on the door.

His face was stern, red with anger, steam practically coming out from his ears.

“Hi…. Ray…” Mikey attempted, his hand waving awkwardly.

“Where the flipping fuck have you guys been?!” Ray shouted, Mikey shut his eyes in fear, and Gerard stood up for him the second after.

“Yo, don’t talk to my brother like that.”

“’ _Yo’_?” Mikey whispered at Gerard. Gerard shrugged awkwardly, his eyes turning to meet Ray’s.

“We were out shopping.” Gerard replied shortly, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets.

“Shopping?! Well you could’ve fucking _called_! You guys could’ve been abducted by _Melior_ for fuck’s sake!”

Ray clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide in fear, his anger dissipating as soon as it appeared, making him shiver silently.

“Melior?” Gerard asked.

“Shh!” Ray exclaimed, looking both ways before tugging the brothers into the house.

Ray shut- nay- _slammed_ the door behind him as soon as they were inside the dimly lit foyer, Mikey’s arms still had numerous shopping bags flung over them like a diva, Gerard with his hands still in his jacket pockets, an eyebrow raised.

“What the fuck is a Melior?” Gerard questioned, after Ray had stopped fucking _shaking_.

“They’re the—“

Ray was interrupted by a knock on the door, he jumped back with a very audible yelp.

Gerard shook his head as he walked over to the door, swinging it wide open as Ray beckoned for Mikey to stand behind him.

“Hey guys,”

Gerard was greeted by a very drunk Brendon Urie, an arm over his boyfriend, Dallon’s shoulder.

“I just got back from a very _dope_ party.” Brendon laughed, Dallon squirming under his arm.

“Hi, Gerard.” Dallon greeted, an apologetic smile across his lips. “Hi.” Gerard simply replied, before he realized what day it was, and what party Brendon was talking about, and why Ray was so cross at him.

He shot Mikey a glance, his brother sharing the same guilty look on his face. It was Dallon’s _birthday_.

“Can I crash here tonight, Ray? Brendon’s too wasted to not pull the steering wheel away from my hands or try to give me a blowjob while I drive.” Dallon said, blushing over his words.

Ray piped up from behind Gerard. “Yes, you can!” Ray said, opening the door wider, taking Brendon by the arm as he helped Dallon lift the heavy dead weight on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Dallon said, walking in behind Ray as Gerard shut the door closed.

“Had a fun day, Mikes?” He asked Mikey, looking at the shopping bags flung over his arms.

“Dallon I am _so_ sorry,” Mikey started, his hands dropping the shopping bags immediately.

Dallon laughed, completely pure, not sarcastic in any way.

“I’m twenty four years old. I’m a bit too old for parties, don’t you think?” Dallon asked, fluffing his own hair.

“Never too old for parties, Weekes.” Mikey said, throwing an arm around Dallon’s shoulders.

Dallon sighed, sitting on the couch where Brendon was ranting about how some dude found some band. But somehow his eyes were filled with raw affection, an undeniable love, just by one glance. Gerard could see Mikey stare at the way Dallon's gaze fall upon Brendon, and he could also tell that Mikey was borderline _envious_ about it.

Gerard mirrored Dallon’s sigh, picking up the shopping bags Mikey had dropped in the foyer. He climbed up the stairs and into his bedroom, tossing the shopping bags onto his bed haphazardly.

He laid down on the carpeted floor. He didn’t care if it was dirty.

The feeling of being alive left him as the darkness he kept to himself started flooding in once Mikey was gone. He stared at the ceiling, red highlight ceiling lights decorating the roof over his head. Ray had it installed in every room, cause he liked the vibe.

Gerard’s was particularly red, cause you know, fire. _Duh_.

But Gerard didn’t like it.

It reminded him of the room which was engulfed in flames. He remembered the smell of smoke around him, he remembered Mikey coughing for help. He remembered his tears stream out of his eyes. He remembered his lungs burning, his throat sore when he rummaged through the ashes that were left of his house, his mom, and his dad.

He screwed his eyes shut, pushing against his temples with the palms of his hands. “Leave me alone.” He sobbed to no one in particular, before he was bathed in dim light from the hallway.

“Hi,” Mikey said, flipping on the lights, making the red highlights disappear from Gerard’s ceiling.

Gerard stared at Mikey as if he just saved his life, bolting up to sit upright.

“Let’s check out what we have,” Mikey continued, walking over to Gerard’s bed, grabbing two random shopping bags, and plopping down on the beanbag Gerard had in his room, scooting over so he could be closer to Gerard.

Gerard hesitated before a smile rose to his lips, he sat cross legged across Mikey, grabbing one bag and started to tear it open.

It was a band shirt, a Misfits band shirt, a matching one he had bought with Mikey. Only Mikey’s shirt was white in color, his was in black. They debated on who would buy the shirt, and ended up buying one for each of themselves.

Gerard chuckled, chucking the shirt in Mikey’s direction. Mikey grinned widely, placing the shirt on his lap as he tore through his bag.

He pulled out a pair of ripped skinny jeans, tossing it over to Gerard, who caught it and stood up.

“Do you mind?” Gerard asked, a stupid grin on his face. Mikey laughed. “Go for it.”

Gerard undid his belt buckle, throwing his old jeans aside as he stood there with his boxers on, tugging on the tight black jeans he had purchased.

By the time the piece of clothing was on Gerard, he strutted across the room, shaking his ass slightly. Mikey was practically dying on the floor with laughter, begging for Gerard to stop.

And Gerard did, laughing as he did so, grabbing two more bags from their pile.

He sat back cross legged across Mikey, his hands already tearing their way into the bag, pulling out a box of black Converse. He slid it over to Mikey, who slid over a box of Original Converse Chucks to Gerard, white in color and high tops, the way he liked it.

They spend another half hour opening their shopping bags, once in a while asking themselves why they bought what they did, cracking up on the floor when one of the brothers would question an item they had bought.

One of the questionable items was a red dildo, one that Gerard waved in the air immaturely, while Mikey literally laid on his back laughing, clutching his guts for dear life.

The second item was a bottle of vanilla lube. Which was ridiculous cause Mikey remember Gerard saying that he hated everything that has to do with vanilla cause he feels like it reminds him of old people. Not that old people were bad, no, but Mikey thinks he was just trying to say that vanilla reminds him of grandma Elena. 

And the third was red hair dye. Complete with hair bleach and a very suspicious pair of hair clippers.

“Why?” was all Mikey managed, his hand still clutching his stomach which was aching from laughter.

“Cause I love the color.” Gerard replied.

Mikey gasped, before laughing again uncontrollably.

“What?” Gerard questioned, laughing himself.

“Bet you like that red dildo too.”

Gerard grabbed the haphazardly lying dildo on the floor, throwing it at Mikey.

“Gay!” he yelled, mimicking a person sucking dick.

Mikey threw the dildo across the room, laughing harder than before, until he got silent.

“Hey Gerard?”

“Hm?”

“I forgot how fun it was hanging out with you.”

Gerard’s face lit up with a smile that reached his eyes.

“Me too Mikes.”

He walked across the room and threw his arms around his younger brother. He inhaled the scent of his younger brother in his arms, who instinctively clutched him in his grasp. 

Mikey smelled like coffee, car perfume, and some Calvin Klein perfume. Gerard had never held Mikey this close before, the day of their parents' funeral didn't count. He loved the way his brother's small frame fits his, and he liked how Mikey rubs small circles on his back, it was so relaxing, so level, that Gerard would never want to pull away.

The grandfather clock from downstairs started chiming, twelve times exactly. Indicating midnight.

“Shit it’s late.” Gerard mumbled, not pulling away from Mikey.

“Yeah, sure is,”

But as much as Gerard hated to, Gerard was the first to pull away, a grin on his face, staring back at him was his brother, a single streak of tear on his cheek.

Gerard could’ve missed it if he wasn’t looking at Mikey good enough. But he was just that kind of brother. One with good instincts, protective nature, and a pyrokinetic ability.

Gerard swiped the tear off Mikey’s face with his thumb. “Please don’t cry,” Gerard cooed.

Mikey burst into tears as soon as the words came out of Gerard's lips, he threw himself onto Gerard, clutching on his older brother as if he would dissipate into thin air if he let go.

“Don’t leave me.” Mikey whispered against Gerard’s shoulder.

“I won’t.”

“P-Promise?”

“I’ll be right here kid, forever and ever, till you’re sick of seeing my fucking face, I promise.”

Mikey pulled away from Gerard, his eyes now bloodshot from crying.

“I love you, Gerard, I mean it.”

“I love you too, Mikes.”

Gerard ruffled his brother’s hair, walking over to the last small shopping bag on his bed.

“Oh, and I got you this.” Gerard stated, a smile gracing his lips as he tossed the small bag to Mikey.

Mikey caught it, tearing it open, and gasping at the contents. No, it wasn’t another dildo.

It was a pair of contact lenses.

“Get yourself a boyfriend, you dork.” Gerard retorted, but taking his words back immediately.

“Fuck it, you don’t need contacts to get a boyfriend, I meant it like—“

“I know,” Mikey said, throwing himself at Gerard the second time tonight.

“Thank you,” he said against Gerard’s shirt.

Gerard held his brother tight.

Not arguing over what they both knew had just happened.

They gave each other their lives back. They somehow breathed life into each other's souls, somehow resurrecting the broken bones, the broken hearts, the broken relationship they had over the days, over the months, the years. 

_I’m alive._

Gerard and Mikey thought at the same time, without even have to voice it out loud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry so much about Gerard being happy it's not gonna last long.   
> MUHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA  
> jk.  
> :*  
> XoXvl


	6. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am fully aware of the date, I don't need anyone informing me about it.  
> 3 whole years of emo tears,  
> enjoi this update  
> XoXvl

“Fuck, _please_ ,” Frank moaned, feeling his release threaten to spill. “Beg for it,” his client whispered huskily against his ear. He knew sex wasn’t allowed, but well, _this_ client decided to hand him an extra hundred dollar bill. Who says Frank can't be rebellious when he wants to be? 

Not to mention he was fucking hot.

With the brown eyes and the chiseled jawline, firm hands and defined cheekbones, brown messy hair and tall feature. Frank didn’t even get his name before he was on his knees, sucking him off.

“Please, _sir._ ” He emphasized, knowing how it affected some of his clients.

“Oh, fuck.” His client grunted, thrusting into Frank's tight heat in one go. Frank cried out hoarsely, trying to keep quiet by clamping his palm over is own mouth, the act proven useless when he let out a rather loud moan as his client's blunt tip brushed against his prostate.

His client started snapping his hips forward and back, hitting Frank’s prostate dead on each time. “Fuck, _ah, ah_ sir _please_ let me come.” He begged, his eyes screwing shut.

“Do it.” His client said, biting on his neck. Frank came all over his client’s hand, panting and throwing his head back.

His client pulled out without even coming, throwing the condom somewhere he didn’t care.

Men tend to do that. Some, anyway. They don’t climax in front of their significant other cause they don’t want them to see the expression when they’re most vulnerable. Most honest.

“See you next week, Frankie.” His client said, zipping up his jeans and wiping off Frank’s mess with a tissue, then walking out of Frank’s dressing room, leaving Frank panting on the floor.

Frank straightened up, his thoughts a jumbled mess, so was his hair.

He scowled, fixing his hair with a nearby brush, before looking at his reflection in the mirror.

_Do I dare run away after this show?_

Frank glanced at his backpack, the one covered with blankets and pillows.

All he needed was in there.

His debit card, a few cash in case his father decides to track him through transactions, his clothes, a sleeping bag, Mylar space blanket, even his guitar which was now in a hard case, leaning against the couch in his dressing room.

He looked back at his own hazel eyes.

He saw his scar, the one that annoys him the most. Then he placed his favorite eye patch over it. One which was plain black with a few red adorning the edges, which made him look like a twenty one year old pirate.

Then he saw the bruises on his cheekbones, the ones his father had inflicted on him, the ones he tried to get rid off by soaking in ice cold water in his bathtub last night.

Frank scowled at the thought of his father, his mind drifting their own places to find his father’s thoughts.

_If I get profit from Frank’s stripping tonight, tomorrow I can hook him up with that guy that has been demanding Skype sex from him these past few days._

_But wait, he has a Skype sex schedule with Tony tonight, does he? Well that kid better have a high sex drive, he’s a young adult, he’ll deal with it._

Frank shuddered at his father’s thoughts in disgust.

“Yes, you are running away after this show.” He whispered to himself.

* * *

 

Gerard woke up from a dreamless sleep. His eyes cracking open to the sound of Brendon singing in the bathroom. In _his_ bathroom, the one in his _bedroom_ of all the fucking rooms in Ray’s –practically- mansion.

“What the fuck, Bren?” Gerard questioned, his bare chest still under the black duvet. Brendon had stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around his hip, another tangled in his hair.

“What?” Brendon shot back.

“ _Why_ are you in my room?”

“Cause, I came here to suck your dick.” he said rather bluntly, leaning against the door frame as he licked his lips seductively.

“Dallon!” Gerard exclaimed, sending Brendon to hide behind the bathroom door.

Gerard started laughing to himself before he felt Brendon’s eyes on him like he was a pile of meat that talked. Cause really, Brendon felt like he just witnessed a pile of meat talking.

“What happened to you, Gee?” Brendon asked, tugging on a pair of boxers by the bathroom door.

“Girlfriend?” Brendon asked, fluffing his hair in front of Gerard’s mirror without bothering to put on a shirt, or a pair of pants.

“Mikey happened.” Gerard replied shortly, grabbing the Misfits t-shirt he had just bought last night, the one lying haphazardly on the floor.

Brendon stopped to take a good look at Gerard, a sincere smile gracing his lips. You don’t get sincerity a lot from Brendon, not unless you’re Dallon Weekes, and Brendon started walking over to Gerard to throw his arms around him when Gerard held his arms out, stopping him from doing so.

“Please don’t.” Gerard muttered.

“I don’t wanna hug your bare skin please.” Gerard said again, shutting his eyes.

Brendon laughed and stepped away from Gerard, pulling a dark gray t-shirt over his head, smoothing down the fabric.

“What happened last night anyway? And how come you don’t have a fucking hangover? You were drunk over your _head_ last night.”

“Oh I don’t know. All I remember was Dallon, Mike and Tre playing something on Wii, they threw the controller and broke my disco ball though. Dallon’s lips, you weren’t there, Ray was though. My ex Ryan Ross, my _other_ ex, Alex Turner. I wonder if he still has his hot Sheffield accent, hmm.”

“Dude.” Gerard responded, half dragging Brendon out of his room.

Gerard closed his bedroom door as Brendon flung himself down the stairs. Not literally though. If he had flung himself down the stairs he’d be dead.

“Babyyyy,” he cried, throwing himself into Dallon’s arms. Dallon kissed the top of Brendon’s head, rubbing small circles on his lower back.

“Breakfast?” Dallon mumbled against his hair.

“Yeah, happy after birthday day or something,” Brendon replied, kissing Dallon’s cheek.

Dallon rolled his eyes affectionately, shoving a plate of toast before Brendon.

“Where’s Ray?” Gerard questioned.

“Oh, he’s gonna drive me and Bren home, my car ran out of gas, I’m gonna get it towed later, maybe.” Dallon replied nonchalantly, his finger scrolling through a feed on his mobile phone.

“What about Mikey?”

“He’s not coming, he doesn’t feel like it.”

Gerard looked down at the carpet, before walking over to the living room and taking a pack of cigarettes he stashed there. Mikey would honestly  _never_ let him smoke. "Why would you fucking let cancer get the best of you? That thing has  _death_ written all over it." he would say every time Gerard held a cigarette to his lips. And by a few days, Gerard wouldn't find his freshly bought box of cigarettes forMikey has either thrown it out or burned the whole damn box in the furnace. Pulling out a stick, Gerard placed one between his lips, walking over to the front door with his hands stuffed in his tracksuit pants.

He stood in front of the closed door, his eyes wandering to the clouds, how grey they looked. It certainly is going to rain, and Gerard wouldn’t like that. Maybe he should just stay home.

He shook his head, something urging him to just go with it. He pinched the tip of his cigarette, the stick lighting up under his touch as he sucked in the glorious menthol flavor, puffing out smoke as he opened his eyes ever so slowly.

It calms him down. The sensation and the residue of smoke in the back of his throat, his lungs, breathing in the substance that would surely kill him one day, then right after, he’s be breathing out the smoke that threatens to choke him in the process and die of air loss, just _everything_.

Ray showed up next to him then, almost making Gerard jump in surprise as he tried to stuff away the cigarette without burning a hole in his new t-shirt.

“Ray you gave me a heart attack.” Gerard stated, holding his palm over his chest.

“It’s going to rain soon-“ Without even finishing his statement, thunder clapped out of the blue, the sound reverberating throughout the air, ringing in Gerard’s ear like an enemy’s battle cry.

Gerard scrunched up his face, putting out his cigarette by an ashtray. “We better get going, then.” He said, walking passed Ray and into the house. That still means Mikey’s the only one he smiles and laughs around then.

So much for being happy in a span of a few days for the first time in two years.

Gerard sighed as he started walking up the stairs, his heart beating for no absolute reason, his hands sweating nervously as he tousled his own hair, arriving in front of his bedroom door.

He pushed the door opened, the darkness from the closed windows greeting him like an old friend. He narrowed his eyes before flipping the light switch on.

He stepped on a few things he and Mikey bought last night, the memory not enough to calm down his heart which was practically jumping around in his chest.

“There is totally _nothing_ to be worried about.” He whispered to himself, tugging off his tracksuit pants and tugging on his new jeans, his usual worn out jacket over one shoulder as he pushed his way passed his bedroom door once more.

He observed the dark hallway, thunder still echoing in the distance, now accompanied with the sound of rain against the asphalt shingles of the roof above his head.

He wonders whether water or ice can put out his flame. If he can’t die from fire, would he die from cold or water, instead?

The thought scared him more than he thought, if he would die if he was exposed to water, how come he still showers?

Gerard shook his head at the irrelevant thought before walking downstairs to be greeted by Ray, Brendon and Dallon. Dallon was on the phone with someone, his eyebrows stitching together in frustration as he clutched the bridge of his nose. " _No,_ I'm asking you whether you can get it towed by _tomorrow_ when I need it to go to work." Dallon had exclaimed to the guy on the other side of the phone.

Once Ray saw Gerard, he beckoned for them to follow.

The combination of water and wind were the very things Gerard hated. Nay,  _despised_. Not only it ruins his leather jacket, it also gets him drenched no matter how big of an umbrella they were standing under.

Gerard snuck into the passengers’ seat while Brendon and Dallon snuggled comfortably in the backseat, Dallon still half-shouting at the man on the other side of his phone.

“No, look I’m saying that you don’t have to tow it _now_ I just need you to tow it to my house, I’ve got work tomorrow. What do you mean you _can’t today_? Bull-fucking-shit! What kind of business do you actually run?!”

Awkward silence filled the air as Ray started the engine, driving slowly as water hit the windshield hard, droplets of water covering their field of vision. They could barely see anything, and Ray was already opening his mouth to suggest they turn around cause it’d be too dangerous to continue driving in this kind of weather before Dallon dropped his phone, shouting a very audible “Ray, stop!”

Ray panicked, his feet not quite reaching the brakes, but accidentally stepping on the accelerator before Dallon reached out from the backseat, palm facing downward.

The vehicle shrieked to a stop.

The whole car turned to face Dallon with wide eyes. There was absolutely something they’re missing here.

The momentum lasted for what seemed to be ages, the car stopping in the middle of god knows where, Dallon’s phone on the car seat, voices still shouting from the other side, the look of shock on Brendon’s face, and mostly, on Ray’s.

Color was drained from Dallon’s face.

“I—I ca-can explain.” He stuttered, pulling his hand away.

Before he could though, someone banged their fist on the hood of Ray’s car. “What are you fucking stopping for!? Run me over!” the figure sobbed. Then Gerard realized that the figure was a young man in a trench coat, drenched nonetheless. Brown hair, smeared make up on his face, an eyepatch over his eye.

“Kill me!!” the boy screamed, banging his fist on the hood of Ray’s car once more.


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bold italic is Frank's POV  
> Plain italic is Gerard's POV  
> Play My Immortal by Evanescence on the background for effect if you want to cry.  
> <3  
> XoXvl

“Please…” He sobbed again, barely audible.

“Fucking _kill_ _me!_ ”

**_There was already a crowd cheering me on. Although it’s still so early in the daylight._ **

**_I scowled at my outfit._ **

**_It was scratchy blue and black lingerie, matching panties and a fishnet stocking completing my look. The make up splayed on my face were the usual dark make-up, only this time both my lip and nose piercings were placed in, matching blue rings hooked onto my face._ **

**_I hesitated before coming onstage, the spotlight shining on me, sparing no mercy for my shame._ **

**_I have had it. I’ve had it with these outfits, I’ve had it with these shows._ **

**_These men trying to get off to me, to my body._ **

**_I am disgusted in what I do for a living._ **

**_My thought made me stop functioning altogether, without even noticing it, I was just standing there in the middle of the stage, blinding light making my squint my eyes and slouch._ **

**_An arm yanked me back backstage, backhanding me right after._ **

**_“I don’t pay you to fucking stand on the stage like a fucking idiot, now strip!”_ **

**_I saw red on the edges of my periphery of vision, and I threw a cross right at my father’s jaw._ **

**_He looked shocked as he staggered backward, my face mimicking his, before I ran into my dressing room with him on my tail._ **

**_I slammed the door closed, sliding in the clip before grabbing the trench coat by my make-up desk, grabbing my backpack. I eyed the bottle of pills by the make-up desk, before snatching it and stuffing it into my trench coat pocket. I pulled a random pair of jeans and some haphazardly lying t-shirt on the ground, tugging it on me effortlessly without caring whether i've put it on backwards or inside-out.  
_ **

**_I rushed out of the backdoor, making sure I didn’t leave any mark in my dressing room.  
_ **

**_My feet were moving on their own accord, backpack slung over my shoulders, trench coat over my small body as rain started to drizzle down from the clouds, making me suffer the more by each passing minute._ **

**_I ran as fast as I could away from the strip club, crossing random streets and turning from different alleyways and stoplights before I even comprehended why my baggage felt so light._ **

**_My eyes widened when I realized what I’ve left behind._ **

**_My guitar._ **

**_My mother bought me that guitar._ **

**_I stopped in my tracks, hugging my small frame for warmth._ **

**_I’m not going back there._ **

**_I stared up at the grey skies, before thunder started sounding, rain full out pouring over my cold body. The one covered in simple thin clothing, an off-putting pair of yellow high tops decorating my feet. I tied the trench coat’s rope around my waist, continuing to walk before I stopped again._ **

**_I stuffed my calloused hands into my trench coat pocket, taking out the pills I’ve snatched away earlier._ **

**_It was my medication for insomnia._ **

**_I opened the cap effortlessly._ **

**_I stared up at the sun which was now covered in clouds and rain, the water spilling into my eyes, mixing itself with my tears._ **

**_I imagined my mom looking down at me with opened arms, before I smiled and tipped my head back as I felt the pills slide down my throat._ **

**_I know I wouldn’t die on the spot._ **

**_But dying would hurt less than this agony called my life._ **

 

_When I was seven years old, I remember my dad tell me that there are very bad people out there in the world. I didn’t believe him. If there are bad people in the world, why is_ he _nice to me? Why is Mikey nice to me? And mom too? The world, to me, were just them._

_Our fun family dinners, the fun shopping sprees we would have. I never thought and wanted it to be an end, I never wanted the fun moments to stop abruptly in front of my face, I never wanted to shut anyone out.  
_

_When I was thirteen, I was a victim of bullying in middle school._

_Apparently, some jocks think that I look funny when I dance._

_So they’d beat me up to make me dance._

_It wasn’t nice._

_I was mistaken._

_The world is a hideous place._

_Years passed apparently, like I knew it would._

_I graduated high school alive, a bit old and an awkward virgin since no one ever wanted me, but I never complained about my sex life. I just wanted to go home and sob into my pillow since my parents didn’t even witness my graduation ceremony, for they were too busy working._

_Eighteen years old. Not to sound awkward or anything, but that was when puberty was going crazy with my body._

_I’m the one to be so late when it comes to maturity and growing up to be a man. I’ve only had my first wet dream when I was sixteen, and I was honestly_ terrified _of sexual intercourse._

_After graduation was also that day I found out that I was an indigo._

_“Try one,” they said, handing me over a weird thin stick, the air and smoke they were puffing out of their nose and mouths smelling like something I recognize as nicotine and menthol.  
_

_I hesitated, before taking one and pocketing it into my jeans. “Maybe later.” I called back._

_“It’s just a cigarette, Way. Come on, don’t be such a pansy.”_

_I held out a hand, shaking my head._

_“I’m good, thanks.”_

_I walked away from them. As soon as I did though, they started calling me names._

_I know I was practically legal to smoke, but I’m not sure if I want to be that kind of person. The bad people my dad has always talked about. The ones he said would try and take me away in my sleep._

_But that night, I sat cross-legged in my bedroom, debating whether I should light up the cigarette or not._

_Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. I would have to get passed my mom in the kitchen to get a lighter._

_I sighed in frustration, pinching the tip of the cigarette as if heat from my human body could light up the deadly stick of potential lung cancer and dying at a young age._

_My eyes widened after I witnessed the thin paper smoking under my touch. Then slowly, but surely, its started lighting up on fire._

_What did I do?_

* * *

 

Gerard stared at the figure in front of Ray’s car, one good hazel eye staring back at him, sobbing, crying. The other covered over the black and red eye patch, the small figure of a man, just begging for Ray to step on the gas and kill him, before he slammed his fist down on the metal of Ray’s car once more for what seemed to be the fifth time.

Gerard was just about to step out of the car and offer him a ride before his one good eye rolled to the back of his head, his neck giving up on his skull. A loud bang resound as his head hit the hood of Ray’s car, his unconscious body falling to the ground with an almost audible thud.

Without thinking twice about the rain, Gerard gasped.

He almost ripped the seat belt off of him, rushing out of the car as rain water started to seemingly sizzle under the touch of his skin, even if he was exaggerating. He fought the discomfort, he fought the pain, he fought it all. His mind simply focused on the boy, the fact that he was probably dead before his eyes. 

He rushed to the boy’s side, one who was now lying on the wet asphalt road, his body twitching every once in a while. Gerard wasn’t scared.

His heart stopped racing in his chest, his eyes scanning over the young man’s body before he snapped out of it and realizing he should probably do something right now.

“Guys, help me get him in the car!” Gerard exclaimed, bending down to carry the unnamed boy bridal style.

Ray appeared out of the car to open the baggage of his SUV, while Gerard gently placed him there, hopping into the baggage of the car along with the beautiful unnamed boy.

Gerard thumbed the brown hair out of the boy’s face as they switched courses to the nearest hospital. He stared down at the boy, the whites of his eyes showing as he started to spaz like he was in a seizure.

Gerard was pretty sure he was overdosed on something, but his face didn’t even show panic. His pupils dilated as he viewed the boy wholly. Firm cheekbones, almost chiseled jawlines, nose piercing, lip piercing, tattoos adorning his neck and arms.

And of course, you couldn’t have missed the eye patch he had over one eye, the black worn out leather strap tied around his head.

He was so beautiful. Scar and all.

He wondered why such a beautiful creature would beg for a predator to kill him.

What was _so_ bad that the ugly world has done to this perfectly beautiful boy?

* * *

 

They arrived at the hospital a few minutes after they had found the boy, one to be named Frank Iero, says the ID which was in the wallet on the back pocket of his ripped jeans.

“Dallon.” Ray started once the boy was in the hands of a doctor who was already escorting him into a surgery room, surrounded by a few nurses stating his blood pressure and his heart rate. The whole group turned their eyes toward Dallon, who stiffened underneath the glares they were throwing at him.

“W-what?” He asked, fear lacing his words audibly.

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

Ray rolled his eyes before he dragged Dallon and himself into the small glass waiting room, where their conversation could be more private. Gerard and Brendon tailed behind them, a certain worried Brendon, and a certain curious Gerard.

“What was that earlier, the thing you did in the car?”

“Dude, I don’t understand what—“

“Baby.” Brendon urged, touching Dallon’s forearm. “You know how much I hate it when you lie to me…” Brendon muttered, making sure to keep dead on eye contact with Dallon.

Dallon cracked. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it back up, closing his eyes and shaking his head in disagreement. “No, _no._ ”

Brendon pouted before he let go of Dallon’s arm, taking a step back and letting Ray interrogate him once more.

“You fucking stopped the car. I wasn’t even stepping on the brakes, you asshole, now confess.”

Dallon whimpered under Ray’s bone crushing grip, his eyes wanting to stare back at Ray’s, but lost the bravery to do so.

Gerard rolled his eyes before he touched Ray’s arm, his eyes boring into Dallon’s.

“Dallon, it’s okay. I have it too.” He whispered.

Dallon’s eyes widened. “You- you what?”

Dallon’s attention shifted altogether toward Gerard, never minding the bone crushing grip Ray’s fingers were giving him. “You- you’re telekinetic too?” Dallon whispered to Gerard. Gerard’s eyes widened.

_Telekinetic_. Dallon is an _Indigo_.

“No, Dall, I’m _pyro_ kinetic.”

Dallon’s eyes sparkled before he mouthed a _wow_ , making Ray lose the grip on his arm. “Dall?” Brendon asked, worry lacing his voice.

“You’re an _indigo_?”

Pain shot through Dallon’s chest before he turned around to face Brendon, eyes sparkling with tears.

“Bren, I- I _wanted_ to tell you, I swear, I was _going_ to tell you, but I—I—“

Brendon shook his head before he stared a good long while between Gerard and Dallon, a tear falling from his eye before he turned away and ran outside the glass waiting room.

Dallon reached his hand out as if to pull Brendon back in with him, but he held back, pulling his own hand back with the other, his head bowed down in shame as Ray placed a hand on Dallon’s back in a comforting gesture.

“I—“

“Fuck it.” Gerard said before Dallon could even speak, making him look up at Gerard.

“Don't apologize for anything. We lose people every single day.” Gerard muttered before he turned to glance at Dallon who was still in shock from what Gerard had just said.

Gerard turned away and exited the small space, leaving Dallon to sit down on the bench, sobbing brokenly onto his hand for his heart had just been broken by the man he loved. One who he assumed wouldn’t take him as who he was as a whole.

A _mundane_ man he was in love with, Brendon Urie.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone watched Batman v Superman already and I'm here stuck with my final examinations.  
> Poo.  
> XoXvl

When Frank was a young boy, he had high hopes and dreams. He wanted to play guitar for a band, he wanted to go around the world, marry a girl, have three kids, get a tattoo of her name on his body, et cetera.

He never thought he would see that day when they burn his mother’s remains into ashes, with him only standing behind a glass, one separating him from his mother’s lifeless body. He never thought he’d lose the light of his life, the one friend he’s got left, the cornerstone of his whole existence. 

He never thought the world could be so ugly. So cruel and heartless to take whatever he had left, and burn it to ashes, level with the ground beneath his feet. He never thought he could hate the world _that_ much, even when he was just a young boy. His father quoted, "You haven't seen how beautiful the world is, so don't end your life before you see how beautiful the world we're living in truly is."

All he could do was cry.

All he could do was break down as they ignited the flames that burned his beautiful mother, the one dressed in a beautiful black Victorian gown, the dress she wanted to die in, her dying wish, or so his father told him. Frank saw her lying there on the cold metal surface, before the bed moved into the furnace and engulfing her in crimson red inferno, her pale face seemingly alive among the red, angry streaks of flame.

Frank couldn’t have done anything. He thought that maybe, god wanted to take his mother away from him because Frank didn’t respect her enough.

Frank didn’t love her enough, and Frank wasn’t _grateful_ for her enough.

It frustrated him. How he couldn’t have done anything to help his mother recover from her sickness. It was all too sudden. It was all going too fast.

Like a knife escaping a knife thrower’s hands, the seconds that seem to have gone by in slow motion, the gravity pulling the edges of the blade toward its target, the force erupting and vibrating around the thrower’s toss, the thrower’s aim, the glint in the thrower’s eyes, the fast _whizz_ it makes in the air, the slight _boing_ sound it makes when it hits its target.

Its target being Frank’s hopes and dreams.

The shattering sound that seemed to have resonated from deep inside his heart.

Or what ever that was left of it.

* * *

 

He jolted awake on the hospital bed, an oxygen mask strapped around his head, and IV tube connected to one of his arms, and a strange red headed boy on the chair next to his bed. He started to panic when he thought the red haired boy was one of his father’s acquaintance, his mind already speeding off three thousand miles per hour before he could comprehend what he wanted to do next.

Frank chucked off the oxygen mask, planning to rip out his IVs and make a run for it before his mind stopped him.

_Take a good look at that boy, you know you want to._

Frank tried to peer past the boy’s mop of red hair, not bearing any result before the boy jolted awake, almost sliding off the chair entirely. He yawned and shot Frank a lopsided grin.

He was beautiful.

Shoulder length red hair, round but not so face, defined jawline and thin lips, pointed nose, and a beautiful stunning pair of gold-hazel eyes. Frank would have been staring since the boy started to look away and rub the back of his neck nervously.

“You’re awake. You’ve been out for five days.”

The second those words came out of the beautiful red headed boy’s lips, Frank froze right where he was. _Five days_.

His father must be close on his track right now. Heck, he might as well had found him lying here on the hospital bed, just waiting until the moment was right for him to take him by surprise, drag him home just to kill him and let him bleed to death right after. He wasn't exaggerating. There was no way in hell his father would let him get away with what he's done.

His heart started beating 90 miles per hour, blood rushing in his veins, head throbbing with pain, meanwhile his thoughts told him to gather his thoughts to keep calm.

“Yeah, uh and why is that?” Frank said, eyes throwing daggers at the red head.

The boy cocked his head to one side, confused. “What do you mean, ‘why is that’?”

“You should’ve fucking killed me, you ass.” Frank snapped.

The boy gaped in shock, eyebrows raised and mouth shaping a thin 'o'. Shock either since Frank was an ungrateful little shit or shocked that Frank was so bold. Probably both.

“Well I didn’t. So be grateful for it.”

“I’ll be grateful when you slice my throat open and send me to hell.”

The red headed boy stood from his seat, all traces of kindness and friendliness gone from his face. Frank felt the need to shrink into the hospital bed once it was clear how _bigger_ the boy looked like when he was standing up straight. The dark demeanor that seemed to be coating the outlines of his body. 

How _frightening_ and _aggressive_ he looked in Frank’s eyes. Frank was somehow fascinated by him. Fascinated by this amazing living being in front of him, one with this amazing aura and vibrations, one that sends Frank jittering and stuttering for no reason at all.

“Why do you want to die so much?” his eyes lingered on Frank’s making his lips quiver, but not enough to let it show.

“Cause I deserve it.” Frank answered simply, eyes still not meeting the redhead’s though he could feel his eyes boring into Frank’s skull.

“What makes you think you deserve something as beautiful as death?” The boy asked, lifting his chin up to the side, an air of arrogance now decorating his aggressive features.

Frank stayed silent. _Beautiful as death_.

“ _Death_ , is a beautiful phenomenon which humans can only experience once in a lifetime. To receive something as beautiful as death, you would have to either be sinless, a pure, innocent soul, or just one god had called to accompany his side earlier than the rest of mankind.”

Frank stared up into the peculiar boy’s beautiful eyes. It was now laced with something that seemed to be annoyance, anger, aggressive aura, and power, all in one sight of his eyes.

“What makes you, Mr. Iero, think that _you_ of all people deserve death?”

Frank was taken aback just because this boy managed to get his name right. No one has ever pronounced his name right. Not even his insurance agent.

“I deserve it cause I don’t deserve life. And life is an even better opportunity than death.”

The red head boy simply chuckled as if Frank was retarded. He looked away as if Frank wasn’t even worth his time.

“To think so is an absolute nuisance,”

“And what makes you say that?”

“Life comes and goes. Life is temporary, meanwhile death, my friend-“

The redheaded boy turned around, eyes glinting under the neon lights, looking down at Frank. Frank shrunk further into the bed if it was possible.

“Death comes once, inevitable, we can’t tell when, we can’t tell why, it just happens. It’s eternal it’s forever, and for one to determine their own deaths is idiotic.”

Frank stitched his eyebrows together at the boy’s statement, his mind going crazy as he thought of penetrating the boy’s mind, to read his thoughts and find out _what_ exactly is going on in his head. He found nothing. Odd.

“Nothing is worth taking your life over. Do you understand?”

Frank froze once again, tears threatening to spill from his eyes before the boy turned away once more.

“I already paid for the hospital bills, I’ll come back for you again tomorrow to take you to wherever you came from when they discharge you, and until then, stay alive.”

He pulled the door handle until it swung in front of his face, hair blown back by the gust of wind he created.

“Wait,” Frank called out, barely above a whisper.

The boy turned his head, eyes still sharp as daggers.

“I didn’t get your name,”

He chuckled again, an attractive chuckle. One a person could completely drown in, one a person would immediately fall for, one a person would pay for to hear on itunes.

“It’s Gerard, Gerard Way.” He said, walking out of Frank’s room to leave him alone under the dim neon lights.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been such a long day and I edited this chapter half asleep,  
> Forgive the weak grammar and use of punctuations  
> \- XoXvl

Frank had fallen asleep again a few minutes after Gerard had left his hospital room, his reason to leave being the expiration of visiting hours, which of course gave Frank some time to think of something to do before he runs into his father or any of his acquaintance by the hospital hallways. Should he just run for his life right now? Move to the next city and never look back? Or should he just stay here in the hospital, get all the treatment he needs from his overdose, and run away _then_?

But of course, Frank Iero had chosen to fall asleep rather than use out the lump of grey matter they called his brain to think of a way to escape without having to get his face all over the television channels or on payphones stating that he was missing and wanted for something illegal he didn’t do. Or to wait for Gerard to visit him again in the morning. Still hazy from the drugs they had injected him with, he forced his eyelids opened, staring at the ceiling while his heart races in his chest.

He didn’t want to go with Gerard. He didn’t trust Gerard at all. Why would he trust the wild-haired boy that was just here giving speeches on how _beautiful_ death was? That kid is fucked in the head. Honestly.

He groaned as he sat up, his eyes snapping wide open when he heard a group of people talking in hushed voices a few meters away from his hospital door. He tensed under the thin covers before the sounds faded and receded into the still nothingness in the cold night air.

He let out a sigh before letting go of the blanket his hands clung onto. And decided it was best for him to rip out his IVs.

But Frank knew the moment he ripped out the translucent tube from his inner elbow, the hospital would be notified that Frank had either flat lined or that something had happened to his respiratory tubes, the ones that are currently sprawled atop his hospital bed, abandoned as he sat on the edge of the bed. And so he thought before he acted, just like he always does.

He stood up, his arm still connected to the complicated contraption standing on a steel pole a few feet away from his hospital bed. He took in a deep breath before he unplugged the heart beat monitor from the electrical power sources, the ones sensing every level systole and diastole his cardiac organ would pulse endlessly. He touched  the sensors he found attached to his heart, before he heard a small beep when its plug was separated from the electric sources, causing it to shut down, the letters ‘EU’ appearing on its dark screen before Frank yanked the sensors from his skin, pulling off the tube connected to his body. He awaited the loud blaring of sirens that has indicated his escape, shutting his eyes closed as he crossed his fingers, hand still clutching the severed IV tube from his body. When the sounds didn't blare through the hallways, he mouthed a 'yes' and left the IV tube sprawled on his bed, before he started walking toward the sofa where a spare jacket seemed to be hanging around.

He pulled the outerwear over his body, moving fast. He paced around the room, wondering where his belongings were, before he found something glimmer under the hospital bed. He snapped his attention to the small source of light, his hand reaching under the bed, feeling the familiar fabric of his hiking backpack. He extended his arm deeper into the bottom of the bed, to grab his backpack and place it on the bed, rummaging through his belongings. He let out a sigh of relief when he finds that everything was still present in his runaway backpack. He kept glancing at the door, worried as if someone could burst in there anytime soon.

But it seemed that he was lucky tonight, more so that his suite looked like first class or VIP. He pulled out a pair of worn out skinny jeans from his pile of belongings. Whilst pulling it on, he continued rummaging through his own belongings, making sure all his cash and items are still in tact.

Frank found himself smiling when everything was still in place. The cash, his clothes, and his phone. All he needed to get away from here. His eyes scanned over the door once more when he saw a few silhouettes walk by his door. The silhouettes were two different people, talking to one another.

“I apologize if my son had caused your staff inconvenience in any way,” one man said.

Frank froze where he was, his face turning paler than the thin white sheets of the hospital bed. He’d knew that voice anywhere. At any tone it spoke, at every word that voice whispers, he would always know who it belonged to.

Dreadfully, it belonged to his father.

Thoughts that ran through his head stopped altogether before he dropped to his knees with an inaudible thud, his eyes scanning the floor under his bed for his beat up converse. He found them the second after, pulling the fabric from under his bed before putting it on his cold feet without much effort. He quickly got his feet under him, glancing once more at the door.

“He wasn’t any trouble sir, he wasn’t capable of much, anyway,” The other man said, chuckling under his breath.

Frank panicked. He was frantic, hands in his hair, his body twirling here and there.

_There’s no way out._

He started to quietly sob into his own palm over his mouth, before he noticed the latch on the window behind his bed. He almost dropped to his knees and thanked god, but he had to act fast.

He tugged his backpack over one shoulder, his hands opening the blinds slowly without any noise, his fingers shaking under the bright moonlight, unhooking the latch which was keeping him a short distance away from the cold air outside his hospital suite.

“And who was the presumably kind man to have afforded this suite for Frankie?” His father asked.

The other man sound unsure, hesitating, as if he knew something fishy was going on. “Uh… It’s actually classified, sir, sorry. Customer’s privacy is our number one priority.”

Frank begged to god in his head to just let him go. His fingers fumbled with the latch, which was rusted up so bad that he need some kind of lubricant.

He didn’t have time to rummage through anything else. His eyes snapped open wider as if it was possible as he reached into his jeans pocket hurriedly, pulling out a small bottle of strawberry lube.

He rolled his eyes at the irony before he twisted the cap open, pouring the whole small bottle onto the latch, making it slide effortlessly as he whispered a silent ‘yay’ and pushed the window open, a gust of cold air hitting him in the face before he squinted his eyes to see how far down from the surface he really was.

He was on the second floor, under the window was a thin ledge, and beyond that, a long eleven feet fall to the cold hard asphalt of the parking lot. He grunted in annoyance. Mostly in fear, but somehow blinded by the adrenaline.

The sound of a door clicking almost made him yelp. Pulling his legs over the windowsill, he placed one slowly over a ledge, trying his best to push the window back down to close it, seemingly making it look like no one has even tried to pry it open.

The rush of the wind blew his long brown hair from his face, half of it covering his field of vision. He stared back down at the ground, and scanned the parking lot. It seemed to be empty, least for a matte black 2015 Dodge SRT Hellcat, parked at the very back of the parking lot.

He stuck his back to the wall behind him, his feet shuffling away from the hospital room window. Once far enough- around three feet away from the window- he started calculating the distance from the window to the ground in his head. What was the impact, the effect, and the risks of an eleven feet fall?

Is he going to break his foot? Is he going to crack his skull? Break a rib? Guess there was only one way to find out.

He saw his hospital room window open from the corner of his eye.

Without thinking twice and changing his mind, Frank jumped off the ledge and onto the cold night air. Floating, mid-air.

His heart stopped beating altogether, his eyes widening at the action he just did, the view of the asphalt ground started to form on his field of vision, closing in on him at an inhumanly pace. He felt his eyes water from the air constantly getting into his eyes, making his sight blur away.

He almost gasped out loud, before his tense body relaxed.

Making sure his feet were under him, he squinted his eyes, leaning his bod slightly forward, before his legs met the asphalt ground, a silent _crack_ resounding before he let out a pained yelp, his hands lunging for the ground as his small frame performed a soft, easy back roll on the hard asphalt, sending him to lie on his back. His head still managed to hit the road rather hard, making stars appear in his periphery of vision, the air knocked out of him before he thought as quick as he could, getting his feet under him and he struggled to stand up, but broke into a sprint as fast as his weak, injured legs would let him, even when he hadn't managed to find his balance yet.

Stars were still in his line of vision, his ankle which he assumed he sprained badly on his landing started to make uncomfortable popping noises in his joint before Frank started limping his way far from the parking lot and aiming for the gates that would send him free, out of the hospital grounds.

He was a few feet away to the streets before the Dodge Hellcat from before sped behind him, headlights on, high beams flashing at him as he craned his head over his shoulder, pupils shrinking before he looked back to his destination, freedom.

Frank shook his head defiantly.

“Not today, motherfucker.” He said under his breath, breaking into a full sprint as fast as he could bring himself to once more, agonizing the pain on his ankle as he made a beeline toward the pavement just outside the gates.

“Frank!” the man driving the Hellcat yelled after him, accelerating his vehicle. Frank almost cried. His eyes were filled with tears, tears of anguish, frustration, pain, and fear.

He prayed to god above that the force above his head would give him forgiveness, grant him protection and just let him get away with his life for once. “Please,” he begged at the air, tripping over his own sprained ankle, falling on the cold, damp pavements, as he tried dragging his body across the brick grounds underneath him.

“Please don’t make me go back, god, no, _please_!” he yelled, as he continued dragging his immobile heavy body across the ground as tears fell from his eyes. “Please, please,” he whispered, clutching his ankle. One that sent burning pain to his muscles and joints, suddenly making him see blue on the corner of his eyes, flashing as if he was bathed in godly light. 

The man driving the Hellcat practically jumped out of his vehicle, dragging Frank by the shoulders.

“No! Please, please no, _no_!” Frank cried in anguish before he felt  hand clamp over his mouth, strong arms pulling him up and dragging his immobile feet across the brick below them, Frank still begging to no one in particular between muffled sobs, a few ‘oh god’s and ‘forgive me’s escaping the sound barrier that was his captor’s hand, as his captor flung the car door opened, stuffing Frank inside professionally, like it was what he did on a daily basis.

Frank kicked at the air as he cried in fear, his eyes sealed shut for fear of his father. Yet strong arms were still holding onto him. “Frank!” the figure shouted, a voice he knew as familiar. One he's only heard once, but one he couldn't ever forget. Somehow.

Frank peeled his eyes opened to find the door shut on his face, meanwhile to his left, the driver’s seat door yanked open, a red haired figure stepping into the car and closing the door hurriedly before they strapped their seat belts in, watching their tail from the rear-view window before stepping on the accelerator as they whizzed through the dark night.

Frank calmed himself down as he found Gerard Way driving the black matte Hellcat he was desperately trying to get away from.

Panic rose back in his form when his lips parted as Gerard turned down a street he knew very well. Gerard was taking him to his father’s strip club.

“No, _no!_ ” Frank cried again, hands still clutching his pained ankle.

“Frank!” Gerard screamed again, stopping the car to a halt altogether. “Frank, snap the fuck out of it-!” Gerard slapped Frank across the face, making him freeze with his tear streaked face and red, puffy nose.

“Do you, work for my father?”

Gerard’s face twisted into an unpleasant one before his hands started grasping the steering wheel again. “I thought we were trying to run away from the man.” He said, stepping on the accelerator as Frank heaved a sigh of relief.

“Why did you—“

“Shh.” Gerard replied, backing up into an alleyway, turning his headlights off.

Frank awaited long, agonizing moments before he saw a few cars pass by, only to recognize one, which was driving relatively slow, as tigers would stalk their prey.The vehicle Frank knew belonged to his father had hit the brakes and screeched to a halt a few feet away from the alleyway they were in. Gerard shushed Frank silently, changing gears and slowly stepping on the accelerator as he felt them move backward, until Gerard's car was concealed in the dark shadows of the night. Frank had to put his hand over his mouth and screw his eyes shut to stop himself from hyperventilating.


	10. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad April 1st has gone by (In my country)  
> and I went through the whole day without pranking and/or getting pranked.  
> Phew.  
> Enjoi the update! <3  
> \- XoXvl

Gerard noticed how much Frank was panicking just by seeing what he assumed to be his father’s Jeep, his hand instinctively grazing Frank’s in a comforting manner, the act only making Frank seem to whimper under his touch. So Gerard stopped trying altogether.

He made sure the Jeep was far away from them as possible, waiting a good five minutes before he ignited the engine once more, glancing at Frank who was paler than a sheet under the luminescent moonlight shining from the tinted car windshield.

Gerard bit his lip before he turned to face Frank, before he could though, a stinging pain appeared on the side of his face, sending his head to snap sideways. His eyes widened in the instant, touching the remnants of the burning pain on his skin.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Frank exclaimed before scrambling to find the car door handle, failing to swing the door opened for Gerard had locked it from the master controller. “What the—Let me out! You’re a fucking psycho!”

“Be nice, Frank, this ain’t a cheap car, you know. You can’t just make me open her beautiful doors in this cramp alleyway, you’ll scratch her.” Gerard pouted, changing gears and pushing down the hand break as the car began to launch into movement.

And Frank jumped out of the car window before Gerard was even out on the streets.

“Are you fucking crazy, or just sick in the head?” Gerard exclaimed from the driver’s seat.

Frank tried to break into a sprint when he realized just how painful his ankle really was, and stopped right then and there, yelping and whimpering for help.

Gerard rolled his eyes before he stepped out of his car and walked toward Frank. “Look, Frankie,”

Frank tensed a soon as Gerard said that nickname. The one his clients used to call him all the time. It made his sick to the bone, made his so angry all of a sudden, as he stood up the best he could, and swung a cross at Gerard’s jaw, sending him to stagger backward and groan at the pain.

“Oh, man, why did you do that?!” Gerard exclaimed, holding the side of his face again.

“You’re fucking crazy, you know Iero? I just saved your fucking life from your psychotic father, and _this_ is what I get? Fuck you and your fucking opinion you little shit I don’t need this, good luck on your fucking own!”

Gerard walked back into his car, Frank still trying his best to limp across the road to the street, grunting and complaining under his breath.

No one asked Gerard to save his life. He would’ve been grateful enough if that guy driving the car would’ve ran him over, then he would be six feet deep under the ground, and the driver would probably be sentenced to jail. Then there was no need for arguing, the struggling, the living, the running away. Things would have been _so_ much easier, so why couldn’t they just let him die?

Gerard drove away from Frank before he could changed his mind, his eyes focusing on the road before him just so he wouldn't get a chance to sneak a glance at the rear view mirror and feel any remnants of pity and ache for the little piece of shit with the long, brown hair and tattooed arms.

Frank on the other hand, limped into what seemed to be a small hotel, somewhere down the block where Gerard ditched him. Excuse me, I meant where _Frank_ ditched _Gerard_. Rude little midget, ain’t he?

He pushed the tiny glass door opened, hearing a small beeping sound indicating his arrival, then the bell just buzzed and whizzed and stopped working altogether.

Frank rolled his eyes before he walked over to the counter, a blonde haired girl with red lipstick and long black fingernails was reading a magazine intently. She had tattoos on the side of her neck, and a nose ring in the middle of her respiratory holes.

Frank cleared his throat and she looked up, plastering a fake smile before she offered Frank a sugary sweet “May I help you?”

Okay, that was far from what Frank expected, maybe she wasn’t as rude as she looked, maybe he just needs to stop judging someone by their looks?

Frank smiled back at her before leaning against the counter top. “Hi, yeah I’d like to rent a room, one that doesn’t actually scream out ‘fancy’ but doesn’t scream out ‘ew gross’ altogether, get me?”

She giggled before typing something into her computer. “Yeah, I get you.”

She typed a few more things into her computer before her blue eyes looked Frank dead in the hazel. “Do you need extra blankets, pillows, wake up calls?”

“Extra blankets will do fine.”

She typed that extra last part before she mumbled a small “Oookay” and wheeled her chair to the back wall where a few keys were hanging loosely on a small cabinet pinned to the eggshell shaded walls.

“Here you go, your room is on the third floor, elevator is on the left, but I think it’s not operating for the time being, so you’ll have to use the stairs on the right, sorry.” She smiled apologetically, glancing at Frank's injured ankle before sliding the door key toward Frank.

“Oh yeah, I don’t mind, thank you uh,” he peered at the girl’s name tag before he continued speaking. “Alice.” He finished, offering a smile in which Alice returned with a tooth rottingly sweet one, showing off her black clad braces.

Frank turned away from the counter to the right, climbing on a few stairs.

He was out of breath when he reached the third floor though, totally dying inside. Not to mention his injury was swollen now, red, and puffy, and sort of catching some sort of fever. Whatever. He ignored the pain and started limping down the hallway, his eyes scanning from door to door to find the numbers which were scribbled atop the room key between his fingers.

After five whole minutes of agonizing limping, he found the blue painted door, the numbers on it matching the one on his keys.

He stopped in front of his room door, glancing back and forth between the hallway and his room, debating whether he should just stay on the streets and save money or pay for some luxury. When of course he chose the second option, for Frank was some kind of prince who’s used to being pampered every single week, where they would pop his pimples and exfoliate his skin, extract his blackheads and scrub his back and feet, massage his whole body and let him dip in chocolate (or milk, depends on his mood) with a few specks of gold put in the tub and a mud mask plastered to his face.

Ahh, he’s lived life.

But not anymore.

He can’t have that every week anymore, and his inner diva is now killing him at the thought of no more weekly encounters with the spa and his very favorite massager, Kelly who knew just the right places to rub (that sounded very wrong in my dirty mind, I am a bad narrator).

He stopped thinking about the weekly pampering that he used to have before jabbing the key into its hole, turning the knob and pushing the door opened to be greeted by cold air from air conditioning. Frank almost groaned out loud with relief, dragging his feet against the carpeted floor and dropping his bag somewhere in front of the bathroom before he plopped himself down on the bed.

“Oh my god I thought this hotel was gonna be crap but it’s honestly not that bad…” he says to no one in particular. He closed his eyes for a brief second before he remembered he still had a hospital gown on, and his ankle still fucking killed him.

He grunted before he sat up and walked over to the bathroom. His ankle made very disturbing popping noises whenever he tried to move, making him squint his eyes and whimper every single time he tried to shift his dead-weight body.

Frank cursed under his breath as he took his backpack, unzipping it to grab his phone and a charger, which probably wasn’t a good idea since they could track him down from it. But he had a feeling someone was trying to contact him, so he held his breath as his phone screen lit up. He started gliding into the bathroom, which had a bathtub with a shower head above it, which was honestly more than enough and more than homey for Frank.

He might as well consider staying here for a few more days, or go as he would for his plan, which is catch a train and leave for New York, or go a little crazy and try to adapt in Brooklyn. And when he runs out of money, he’d find a new job, or maybe get a new ID.

He sighed before plugging the drain on the bottom of the bathtub, turning on the faucet and sitting by the toilet seat as he scrolled through his messages. A few of them were from his father.

Five days ago:

  _Frankie please come home, where are you?_

_Frank I’m sorry I acted the way I did earlier. Come home._

_Frank, you better not be sleeping with a client again._

Four days ago:

_Where are you now? Why weren’t you at work?_

Three days ago:

_Pick up the phone you ungrateful brat_

_You better be coming home tonight._

Yesterday:

_I heard you’re in the hospital. I’m dragging your ass back home as soon as you wake up and read this message._

There were a few messages from some of his friends, too.

Andy Hurley, three days ago:

_Hey, your dad keeps calling me telling me you’re gone, are you okay? Where are you? Please come home so your dad stops FUCKING MESSAGING ME HE’S SO ANNOYING GODDAMIT  
love you Frank, you know you can come over anytime, no homo xoAH_

Frank had to smile at the message for Andy was his childhood friend who was transferred to a different high school as soon as they graduated middle school, and he’d never seen him again, but around three months ago Frank had run into him at a local bookstore, where they catch up that ended with a very teary goodbye for Andy had to go back home to New York on that very day for a job interview.

The rest of the messages were just junk, trash mail and promotions for jobs. Some from his clingy clients that somehow got his number. Which he was sure his father spread out on a pamflet or something.

Frank set his phone down on the counter for the bath was almost ready. He stripped his jacket off along with his jeans and hospital gown. He chucked the hospital gown into the medium sized black garbage can. Before he froze right where he was.

His phone beeped from a new message.

He started sweating, his hands clammy as he slowly walked over to the phone, as if targeting a prey. Has his father found him? That quick? Really?

He gulped audibly before he took his phone and unlocked the screen, his eyes squinting at the message scribbled on the low brightness of his phone.

Unknown Number, a few minutes ago:

_100 Ocean Ave, Spring Lake, NJ, 07762._

It was an address? But… what…? To what does it lead to? His father? His death? Or his escape?

He scribbled the address down on a toilet paper with a random pencil he found by the counter, and placed it back down slowly.

He sighed as he placed his phone down, pressing his temples with two fingers in distress.

“Oh god help me.” He whispered to himself before he walked toward the bathtub, inching one foot inside before he submerged half of his body in the warm, relaxing water.

He shut his eyes momentarily before reaching out for his phone again, unlocking it in one swift motion, copy and pasting the street address to google maps.

He was not disappointed. It was an address to a house. And it was just a short distance away from the hospital he’d just escaped from. Typical.

He sunk further into the bathtub before turning off his phone, making sure no one had him on his tail, he closed his eyes and sunk to the bottom of the bathtub, face covered in warm water before he decided what was best for him.

He emerged from the water surface, grabbed his phone by the sink, and tossed it basketball style to the toilet bowl.

His phone fell into the water with a huge splash.

And only then did Frank exhaled and breathed normally, closing his eyes as he continued taking his sweet, long, bath.


	11. Chapter Ten

Gerard arrived home around half past eleven, still muttering insults to Frank as he got out of his car-the one he never knew he had- and strutted up the steps leading to Ray’s big ass mansion. Which actually gets really annoying since he didn’t see the actual fucking function of the stairs, it’s so tiring and annoying. Why not have an escalator? That way he didn’t have to move his lazy-ass legs up any kind of inclination. Stand back and see as the escalator brings him to the porch of his house.

Yeah, that sounds heavenly. Gerard would definitely suggest that idea to Ray soon.

Gerard was panting by the time he reached the porch, bending his torso over his legs before cursing under his breath and letting out an audible ‘phew’. He checked his back pockets for his keys.

Oh crap come on. He left it in his car.

He audibly groaned, not loud enough for anyone in the house to hear, but groaned, nonetheless, throwing his hands in the air in an exasperated manner. “Fuck this. I’m going to knock.”

And so Gerard did.

He expected to be kept waiting for at least five minutes, and get a lecture about why he was home this late and why did he bother knocking on the door and what happened to his keys. But no.

Mikey appeared immediately in the doorway. Luminescent lights from the foyer defining his body, his quirky angles and joints.

“Hey…” he whispered, before he was cut off by Brendon, who all but screamed: “Yeah well maybe you shouldn’t have _lied_ to me!”

Gerard’s jaw dropped.

“What on Iero’s name is he still doing here?” Gerard questioned Mikey, whispering as he did, shrugging off his leather jacket and chucking his keys next to Mikey’s in the bowl by the foyer.

“Uh… he didn’t wanna go home with Dall… So he kinda stayed here… He just stayed over last night though, while you were staying at the hospital.”

Somehow Gerard’s face flamed when Mikey mentioned the hospital. Because yes, he had been staying at the hospital, keeping Frank company for he felt a tad bit sorry that no one was there to be there for him. While Gerard didn’t know _why_ he volunteered to stay the night in a very uncomfortable plastic chair even though they rented Frank the first class suite.

“Oh,” was all Gerard said as an answer before he marched into the television room connected to the breakfast bar slash drinking bar, the one lit in dim yellow lights, chairs and tables deep mahogany, with a red velvet tablecloth. Red as blood. Damn was Ray rich.

He walked passed Dallon and Brendon arguing by the television room nonchalantly like he owns the place. When in reality, he really does own the place. Well, technically it’s Ray’s, but still, he’s been living there for three years, leaping into four in a few months, and he has every right to walk in pass their fight and get a glass of wine from the bar.

Gerard hummed to himself as he poured a very red, thick liquid into his wine glass, swirling it around with one hand before he plopped himself down gracefully on the edge of the deep mahogany bar counter.

When Dallon and Brendon stopped fighting, Gerard’s eyes widened.

“Oh don’t stop on my accord, please, continue.” He said, waving his hand in their direction while sipping his wine tentatively.

But of course they didn’t.

“Not gonna resume? Okay then, I’ll just cut in.”

Mikey was by the television room doorway with a very startled looking Ray behind him, while Mikey just all but face palmed.

“So hey there Brendon, exactly why are you mad at Dallon over here?”

Brendon looked taken aback, before he narrowed his eyes, shooting hateful glances at Dallon.

“ _Well_ , firstly, he not only _lied_ to me that he was an indigo—“

“Well, did he ever _told_ you that he wasn’t an indigo?” Gerard asked, his eyes still fixated on the glass of blood red wine in his hand.

“Uh… No,” Brendon said, defeated.

“Exactly.” Gerard said, winking as he looked up, thrusting the glass in Brendon’s direction like how Leonardo DiCaprio would.

“W-well, he could’ve told me sooner! When we weren’t in a life threatening situation! And he could’ve told me the day he asked me to be his boyfriend, a little bit of fair warning isn’t at all a bad thing you know!” Brendon crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well, did you _give_ him a chance for him to tell you that he is, in fact, an extraordinary indigo?”

“Well I—“

“If he would’ve told you sooner, would you have reacted differently than the way you’re reacting right now?”

“I—“

“No, you wouldn’t. Because honey, you would throw his proposal and spit it back at his face the exact _second_ you discover your so called boyfriend can move things with his mind. Out of pure _fear_ of him. And no, you wouldn’t. You would give him the _exact_ same reaction as you’re giving him now, because sugar, you’re so biased and used to the lies that every indigo can, and _will_ hurt you.”

Gerard was full on staring into Brendon’s eyes at this point, his golden irises boring holes into Brendon’s eyes. Gerard looked away, lips against the cold rim of the wine glass in his hand once more before he tilted his head back, chugging the red liquid down his throat in one go, placing it delicately on the mahogany counter top as his eyes met Brendon’s once more.

“Now Brendon, when he proposed of you to be his boyfriend, did he use his abnormality to force you to say yes?” Gerard started, the room dead silent under the tone of his voice.

“No.”

“No, so you said yes to what?”

“To my—“ Brendon stopped. He eyed Dallon, who was looking down at him with loving eyes. The eyes and the look of the feeling of a certain readiness to lose him at any second, so was relishing the sight of Brendon before him, drinking it in, before he has to witness his beloved mundane walk out the door.

“To my feelings, for him.” Brendon continued.

“And those feelings are?”

“I- I loved him.”

“ _Love,_ darling, present tense.”

Gerard hopped off the counter, taking out a cigarette from his back pocket. “You see it in his eyes, you have it in your eyes, not that I like you two together, not that I’m standing up for anyone. But stop lying to yourself, would you, sugar? Might be doing yourself a favor that way.”

At this, Gerard pinched the tip of his cigarette, lighting it under his touch as both Dallon and Brendon gasped in shock.

Gerard waved a hand at them dismissively, dragging the cigarette over his lips before he mouthed at it, placing it between them.

“Brendon, I could burn down a fucking building with my abnormality if I wanted to.” Gerard said, staring dead into his eyes.

“Your beloved boyfriend could make your brain combust or just turn to literal sludge if he’s powerful enough, maybe rip it out from your skull.” He continued, stalking the cold drink in the fridge.

“My brother? He’s the modern version of Freddy Krueger. He can kill you in your sleep. Waltz in there, either make out with you or slit your throat with a box cutter, there’s no in between.”

Brendon gulped audibly while Dallon’s eyes widened a notch, the same feeling Gerard had when he figured out he wasn’t alone. The strange feeling that he belonged. The feeling to be wanted in a certain society he wasn’t sure at first. But now, everything was unraveling at Gerard’s words, every syllable exposing every secret the world never needed-and had-to know.

“And Superman?” Gerard added, glancing over his shoulder at the couple. “He’s standing behind Freddy Krueger by the doorway. Well, minus the flying part.”

The air held a very suspenseful discreet content in it, every word stumbling out of Gerard’s pair of lips bouncing off the walls and resonating around the five of them like some sort of dark aura, the seriousness in his voice a dark smoke of fearful energy as he walked slowly, cigarette in hand, toward the fridge by the drinking bar.

“If I wanted— If _Dallon_ , wanted to kill you just so you wouldn’t tell anyone about him being an indigo, sugar he would.”

“But,” He stopped.

Gerard pulled the fridge door opened before he took out a new bottle of wine. Eyes menacingly at Brendon.

“He hasn’t, has he?”

Gerard smirked over his shoulder, twisting a cork opener with cigarette still loose between his lips. He pulled as the room was now filled with a very audible ‘pop’, pouring the red colored liquid into his previous wine glass.

“We aren’t _that_ malevolent, Brendon. We’re friends here. Learn to trust people. Indigo or not.”

Gerard took a drag of his cigarette, lowly moaning to himself as the nicotine reached his lungs, and was torn back out from his bronchus as he exhaled soundly, gray smoke above his head as he removed the cigarette from his lips between two fingers, sipping his precious wine.

“God, that’s a good bottle of wine.” He said before placing the glass down, his dark demeanor washing over him once more.

“Now, make out by the couch with your boyfriend there and make up, I’ll pretend like I didn’t see it, just don’t moan too loud, I need my sleep.”

Gerard took the wine glass in one hand, the other still holding his cigarette before he placed the cigarette back between his lips, walking toward the doorway.

“Are we done here? Okay. Good night.” He said before waving at Brendon and Dallon as he walked pass them, out the doorway where Mikey snatched the cigarette away from his lips.

“Hey!”

Mikey shook his head and squinted his eyes before he stubbed out the cigarette against his palm.

“Off to bed, no smoking, big brother.” He retorted, patting Gerard’s back pocket in a very no homo way, and extracting the box of cigarettes he had in his jeans.

“Mikeeeyyyyy” he whined.

“No.”

They had a stare down for a split second, brown meeting hazel, a certain Ray Toro already whispering a “Hey, hey, hey…” in case he needed to pull them apart.

Gerard pouted before he took another sip of his wine, turning away from Mikey with a defeated shrug and marching upstairs while he continued humming a tune to himself, swaying his hips as he strode up the stairs and into his room.

Mikey just stood there, mesmerized. That man was his brother, the one who just revealed their secrets in mid-air, exposed to the world and all the prying ears they knew. The man with the dark demeanor and the sharp gazes his golden irises can intimidate you under. Was the same man that he just sent off to bed, and the same man whose cigarettes he took away.

Gerard was frightening. In a lot of different perspectives.

Exactly like how an alpha would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter I hate so far...  
> Heads up on updates!  
> Oh, and anyway, have you ever heard of the Slayer Wine and Motorhead's Vodka? Oh damn I want either one.  
> \- XoXvl


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SENSITIVE MATERIAL SUCH AS RAPE (NON CONSENT)  
> Please feel free to skip this chapter out if you feel like the subject is too sensitive for you

_Of fucking course. Of fucking course._

Frank chanted in his head as he read the bill sat on the wooden tray before his eyes, the one for his overnight stay.

He took out his wallet, eyes still dancing over the bill that stated his expenses.

“Is there a problem, sir?” asked the receptionist. Not the friendly one that checked him in last night, this time a girl with short bob, firetruck red hair, green eyed and a slightly tan skin that seemed fake. She reminds him of Gerard Way. In a way. Ha, _way_.

“Uh, no.” Frank muttered, taking out three hundred dollar bills and placing them on the counter.

_Man, the price was outrageous! No wonder it has such a fancy suite. Note to self, never trust fancy suites._

The tan girl named Gina took his money from the counter and gave him a fake smile, offering him a “Thank you for staying with us.” Before she scowled and Frank turned to leave the hotel lobby and into the streets.

He shook out his ankle, feeling it getting better before he pulled his hood over his head, sliding a pair of shades on his face before walking down the street to the nearest bus stop, or train station.

He pondered over this again in his head.

_Bus stop._

_Lot of my workmates take buses..._

_But you have shades on._

_Oh yeah, that helps_ a lot

Frank shook his head, ridding himself of the argument going off in his thoughts.

Train station it is then.

He casually walked down the avenue when he heard someone call out.

“Hey hey cutie, you all alone?”

Frank ignored the husky-voiced man leaning against the alleyway to his left, continuing to walk down the ave before he felt a hand clutch to his backpack.

“I was talking to you, cutie.” He said demandingly, pulling Frank in by the backpack before Frank let out an audible yelp, ready to scream for help or throw a jab when a knife was held at against his throat.

“Take what you want.” Frank said in a low voice.

The man snatched his shades off before throwing it to the ground, making the sound resonate through the brick walls surrounding them in the dark alley.

“Oh baby you have beautiful eyes…” he started whispering before he removed the knife from Frank’s throat, planting kisses by the veins of his neck.

“Get the fuck off me!” Frank screamed, before he felt a burning pain shot through his thigh.

He looked down at the knife that stabbed his flesh, hissing an whimpering as the man dug in deeper, shifting his blade left and right against Frank’s wound, making him cry out.

He clamped a hand over Frank’s lips before he tugged down Frank’s jeans single-handedly.

“Gonna fuck you so hard, cutie.”

Frank shook his head frantically before the man pulled his blade out of Frank’s flesh, pushing down his jeans with his hand.

“Fuck baby so hot…”

Frank felt tears on the rim of his eyes from the pain.

“Please stop, don’t do this to me!” Frank pleaded.

“Oh shut the fuck up baby, I like it more when you shut up.”

He pulled his shirt over his own head, tying it around Frank’s mouth as a gag.

Frank struggled to keep him away, his mind trying to penetrate his to force him to stop, but hazy from the morphine the hospital injected in him, his thoughts seemed to have numbed. Fuck, not a good timing.

He held Frank’s arms behind his back, before he pushed his face up against the brick wall.

“Ready baby? Imma go in dry baby, make you feel every twitch I send to you—“

Frank let out a muffled scream into his gag as he thrusted into him in one go, Frank begging aimlessly for him to stop.

_It hurts. It hurts. Stop. Stop!_

“Pl-please—“ Frank begged, muffled by the gag around his head.

“Oh baby you’re so tight… You’re making me crazy… Dammit…”

He kept snapping in and out of Frank, the one who was still now against the brick wall, tears streaming down his face as he kept on begging for him to stop.

The pain in his lower abdomen was unbearable. It felt like someone was splitting him in half with a blunt hand saw. Frank could see the edges of his field of vision turn white. He closed his eyes, as if begging for someone to end his misery right then and there.

“Stop…” Frank begged.

“Nu-uh baby, nu-uh, not until I come inside your gorgeous little ass… oh fuck, so close baby so close…”

Frank was sobbing under the man’s touch, he wanted it all to end, he wanted him to stop. He wanted to slit his throat with his own blade.

The man came with one last thrust of his hip, riding out his own orgasm before removing the gag from Frank’s mouth, letting Frank fall to the floor with a thud, jeans still around his ankles. He looked both ways, pulling up his pants and running away fast as he could from the crime scene.

Frank took three long minutes to regain his consciousness.

And when he did, his eyes widened in realization, as he looked down at his hands, before he erupted in a fit of sobs. His body jolting in short spasms as he sobbed brokenly into the palm of his hands.

He eyed his backpack by his side. He was lucky the guy didn’t take his cash and belongings. Just did something worse than that.

The pain in his thigh and backside resonating and burning at the same time, as if his legs caught on fire.

Frank witnessed the blood spilling from the wound on his thigh. The same feeling drenching his backside as he reached out a hand to touch the burning skin on his tailbone.

He touched where the man had connected their bodies together, feeling the still warm substance leaking and staining his skin before he continued sobbing, witnessing the semen on the tip of his finger, joined by a bit of blood on there too.

He forced himself to get up, his thigh killing him the moment he got on his two feet.

He tried his best to muffle out his sobs with the sleeve of his cotton jacket, pulling up his jeans and taking his backpack on the ground next to him.

He buttoned up his pants and zipped up, blood staining his now favorite jeans where the man had jabbed his knife into.

He flung the backpack over his shoulder, his hand still over his mouth.

He felt disgusting.

He felt so dirty.

So used.

He pulled the hood of his jacket back up over his head, and pulled out a familiar tissue paper he had stuffed in his jacket pocket.

He read the address he strewn over the tissue paper, still sobbing, but no tears came out.

He stopped moving as he dropped to his knees, the taste of bile rising in the back of his throat and increasing at an inhuman pace. He doubled over his own body, emptying the content of his stomach by the dumpster, the sound of him puking resonating in the air until he was dry-gagging.

The feeling of nothing left to throw up, but he still needed to throw up. He felt disgusting.

He sobbed again at the air, his hand covering his mouth, wiping the edges of his lips with his sleeve.

By then he wanted someone to swoop in and shoot him with a shotgun right through the head.

He looked forward at the avenue, limping his way out of the alley, his breath chanting the same thing over and over.

“100 Ocean Ave, Spring Lake, NJ, 07762… 100 Ocean Ave, Spring Lake, NJ, 07762… _”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said this chapter is my least favorite so far, it has the least words from the other chapters just because I wanted to speed it up since I'm not comfortable with the subject mself, but I had to do it for the plot in order for it to make more sense and connect one chapter with the other.  
> Anywho, thank you so much for keeping up with my slow updates, I'll be sure to pop up these updates more recently  
> oh, and by the way,  
> *whispers* I am falling into the All Time Low fandom...  
> -XoXvl


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really reached a plot dead end where I don't know what else to do to fill in the main plotholes that's literally every where.  
> But hey! I figured it out now. ehehehe  
> \- XoXvl

Gerard stared at the white ceiling of his room, thunder and lightning striking out his window violently as rain started falling from the clouds. He scrunched up his face before he ran a hand through his dyed hair, groaning as he forced back a yawn.

His thoughts wandered over to last night, how he’d separated the fight between Dallon and Brendon as he sighed.

The two of them went home just a few hours ago, leaving Ray alone at home with Gerard, meanwhile Mikey was working his shift at the local Starbucks, which Gerard thought was lame.

Ray was supposed to be at work too, but he had a fight over the phone with his parents. Gerard heard him mention ‘Melior’ again in hushed voices, as if he feared the coalition that much. Or maybe he really did. But why he does, Gerard doesn’t even know.

Gerard heard the bell chime in from downstairs, the static in his walkie talkie on his nightstand buzzing as he heard Ray speak through it.

“Gerard, get the door, over.” He said in a geeky, astronaut voice.

Gerard rolled his eyes before he rolled onto his side to grab the device by his nightstand. “Why don’t _you_ open the door, you’re in the kitchen.” Gerard whined, placing his arm over his eyes as he stifled yet another yawn.

Ray didn’t answer. So Gerard had assumed that he had ignored him, or gotten the door.

Gerard awaited seconds before he heard the front door click open and smiled to himself smugly, victorious. He was about to drift into sleep when he felt his phone buzz against his pocket.

He took it out and glanced at the message written on the screen.

Andy Hurley, just now:

_Man, I see you’re online again, it’s been years! Care to talk to me and enlighten me on why you disappeared a few years back? Take your time. xAH_

Gerard smiled before he sat straight up.

Andy Hurley was his high school friend, fellow nerd that loves Fangoria just as much as he does, and gets his head dunked into the toilet bowl just as much as he does, too.

Gerard typed in a response to Andy.

 _Hi, yeah it_ has _been so long, has it? Oh man, I just didn’t feel like showing up to any of the reunion and shit, I don’t really wanna see Bert McCracken, that’d be AWKWARD. XoxoG_

Gerard pressed send as he awaited for his reply from his former best friend, his phone springing to life right after he’d sent the message.

Andy Hurley, just now:

_Didn’t think you’d reply :p, and yeah, Bert’s straight now, so it would be so awkward for you, sadly. But won’t you show up once in a while? Rub it in their face that you’re hot now._

Gerard chuckled to himself and started typing his response, before he heard Ray scream for him, not through the walkie talkie, but straight from downstairs.

Gerard almost dropped his phone, scrambling to his feet and running downstairs, to find Ray dragging someone into the house. He seemed unconscious.

“Dude, what the fuck did you do?!” Gerard exclaimed, helping Ray drag the immobile body to the guest room on the first floor by the bar.

As they laid the body on the bed, Gerard eyed the stranger, before his eyes grew wide, every inch of the person’s appearance claiming familiarity in Gerard’s head.

“Frank?” Gerard whispered, touching the younger man’s forehead.

Frank’s eyes snapped open, before his arms started waving in the air like mad, his feet kicking the empty space as he screamed ‘no’ and ‘get off me’ on the top of his lungs.

Gerard grabbed his arm and pinned it down, looking into his eyes.

“Hey, hey, chill!” Gerard squeaked.

Frank cried out as Ray’s hand made contact with his bleeding thigh, whimpering weakly right after.

Gerard held Frank by the jaw, and aligned their eyes so he could see that it was Gerard and not a stranger who has him in his hands.

“Frank!” Gerard exclaimed.

Frank’s eyes widened, staring back into Gerard’s golden irises. His pupils delated constantly, his eyes softening and his limbs relaxing slightly. Only slightly.

“Gerard?” He squeaked out, eyes watering. Gerard felt guilt rise in his throat the second he heard the broken tone of Frank’s voice. He let go of Frank’s arms, pulling away slightly to get on his knees to be in Frank’s eye level by the bed.

“Yeah, I’m here.” Gerard whispered, smiling softly.

Frank stared at him for a good long while before his eyes started watering. He broke down the second after, crying brokenly into his own palms as his body jolted in short spasms, his breathing uneven. It sounded harsh. And Gerard found it hard to look at.

“I- I feel s-so…” He attempted, before Gerard shushed him, cooing him while he cradled his shoulders, making Frank lay back down on the bed, still crying as hard. “I- I…”

Frank didn’t finish before he drifted into an unconscious state.

* * *

 

“What’s up with his leg?” Mikey whispered, watching Ray dab a wet piece of cloth over Frank’s stab wound. Frank was still unconscious for what seemed to be four hours after he’d arrived at their door soaking wet. Falling on Ray face first before he could even say a word without stuttering over the cold.

“I think someone stabbed him.” Ray replied, eyes still focused on Frank, now only in his underwear as Ray cleaned his wound.

Mikey rolled his eyes. “Yeah I can see that, but his ankle looks really bad.” Mikey said over Ray’s shoulder. He pointed at the joint where Frank’s ankle seemed to form a big blue bruise, all down to the spine of his toe.

“Ouch.” Ray whispered under his breath, dipping the now blood soaked cloth into the bowl of clean water. The clear water turned a deep red after Ray has dipped the cloth in, making him uneasy.

“Wait here, watch over him.” Ray said before leaving the room.

Ray might be the most experienced in first aid and medication among the three, but he was also the one who has a slight blood phobia, where a single sight of pooling blood would make his gut wrench and bile rise up to the back of his throat. But he was used to that by now.

Gerard was quiet as ever, still kneeling next to the bed, eye level next to Frank who seemed to be peacefully asleep.

Gerard stared at the way he inhales and exhales, his face scrunching up from time to time as Frank would constantly groan or mouth something. He must be having a nightmare.

Gerard reached out a hand, the limb stopping in mid-air as he debated whether or not he should calm him down. Yeah, he couldn’t help himself.

He reached out a hand, stroking Frank’s long brown hair away from his face, tucking it behind his ear, and Frank’s face soften lightly at the touch.

Mikey just stared at his brother from the sidelines, watching him quietly, the air around them still and awkward.

Mikey wanted to say something, but he didn’t want to stop watching what was unfolding before his eyes.

He could actually _see_ the affection laced in Gerard’s eyes, he could _find_ the remnants of what seemed to be worry and care in every stroke of Gerard’s hand over Frank’s face. And Mikey might be imagining it.

“Y’know,” Mikey broke the silence, sending Gerard to pull his hand away from Frank as if he’d been burned by Frank’s skin.

Gerard hummed as a response, looking up at Mikey, who tried to fight back his smug smile.

“I can get in his head, see what he’s thinking.” Mikey offered.

Gerard snorted silently, eyes glazing over Frank once more. Again, Mikey saw that glint of something he used to see all the time when he was a kid, dancing in Gerard’s eyes.

Mikey would see it every single time Gerard talked to him, every time Gerard gave Mikey his comic book just because he wanted Mikey to be a geek. The look he gives him when Mikey would ask him a question.

That glint of _something_ in his eyes that he’s never seen any more, not until right now.

“Nah, let him sleep.” Gerard said, barely above a whisper, before he stood up and walked toward the door, stopping before his baby brother and ruffling said brother's hair on his way out.

As soon as Gerard walked out, Ray appeared by the doorway, a new bowl of clean water and a piece of cloth, along with an ice pack, and a whole first aid box.

Mikey stood from his seat to help Ray set out the things on the floor.

Ray started dipping the cloth into the water, wringing it between his hands.

“Gerard is quiet. I wonder why.” Ray whispered at no one in particular.

Mikey nodded. “I know.”

Ray looked up at Mikey, before he looked back down and continued dabbing Frank’s wound.

“Well whatever it is, I’m sure it—“

“It’s this boy.” They said in unison before their eyes met for a moment.

Mikey looked down at Frank.

What did Gerard see in this boy that he never saw in anyone else?


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I overuse enter so much it's starting to piss myself off.

Frank awoke to the throbbing pain in his thigh, he groaned as he tried to sit up. But he couldn’t.

His eyes widened as he looked around frantically, the room too dark for him to possibly recognize anything in the cold room. And he was freezing to death.

He shifted his leg, finding it a bit heavy. And he looked down the best he could, seeing that his ankle was in a gyps and a wooden brace, he threw his head back on the surprisingly soft pillow under his head.

He saw that he was indeed shirtless, no wonder he was freezing to death. But he can’t move for some unknown reason.

He tried to remember what happened to him before this, and regretted the decision afterward, remembering the alleyway, the rapist, and where he’d slithered away to.

He wasn't exactly the type to go crying over rape. It counted as an everyday job, honestly. Some of his clients' kinks were too much for him to handle, and sometimes he would either _pretend_ to enjoy it or just straight-forward scream out in pain. It gets _some_ people off, y'know.

He winced as he tried sitting up once more. He grunted out loudly as his head shot with pain, a huge migraine, causing him to sway slightly in his seated position, his hand coming up to massage his temples.

He groaned.

“Where the fuck am I?”

Voices screeched inside his thoughts, making him scream out, the pain shooting from the bridge of his nose all the way to the back of his head and the top, which meant that the meds from the hospital was starting to wear off.

He felt his abnormality crawl back slowly, hearing the voices in his head he’d never thought he would miss. Without it, the world just seemed so… _Quiet_.

Frank scanned his surroundings, finding a window, or a crack, something he could slip through and run away from.

His eyes glazed over the light gray walls, the color being his second favorite after black.

He looked down at the bed and gaped.

It was covered it black satin sheets, and a maroon duvet, which for some reason wasn’t wrapped around his body.

He scanned the room again, finding it to be rather modern, yet very minimalist at the same time, in a way. It was just beautiful kind of classic, one particular painting of vaudevillian girls in what seemed to be an abstract of some kind.

He searched the floor for his belongings, finding his backpack by the foot of the bed immediately.

_Make a run for it. It’s not safe._

Frank lunged to get on his feet, groaning when his braced foot hit the cold floor below him, and he was bathed in dim yellow light from the hallway outside.

Frank raised his fists to his face, ready to throw a punch when needed.

The intruder flicked on the light switch beside them, turning on the dim blue highlight ceiling lights, making Frank look up and gaze at it, admiring the rare view of such expert décor.

“Oh, you’re awake.” He heard from the doorway.

There stood a young man, probably around his age, blonde hair pulled back with a hair band, glasses by the bridge of his nose, tall complexion, skinny body, and long legs.

He smiled warmly before Frank could panic.

“I’ll tell him you’re up, wait here.”

_Him?_

The tall, lanky young man exited the room. Frank heard the sound of footsteps pounding against the floor, running up the stairs, and he heard someone shout something that sounded much like ‘Jard’.

Frank tilted his head to the side, before closing his eyes and scanning the periphery for any active mind.

He felt one, in the kitchen, playing Wii sports. Bowling.

_Man I suck so bad at this game it’s sad. Let’s not let them see my scorecard._

Frank stifled a giggle. How can one suck at bowling?

His mind wandered further, up the stairs into a dim room, red lighting, and-

Frank jolted from his transcendence as he heard the door click open, another new silhouette standing by the doorway.

“Geez, I thought you were never gonna wake up.” The figure said, one voice Frank knew all too well.

“Gerard Way?” he asked, squinting his eyes.

Gerard walked into the room, hand on his hips and a lopsided smile gracing his thin lips.

“One and only.”

“And you, Frank Iero, shouldn’t be out of bed. Lie down.”

Frank almost choked on his own spit as Gerard walked in and ushered him back to the bed, forcing him to lie down as he threw the duvet over Frank’s small figure.

“How did you find me?” Frank managed to mutter after a long awful silence.

Gerard scrunched up his face and sat down across Frank’s bed.

“You don’t remember how you got here?” Gerard whispered.

Frank shut his eyes closed, the voices ringing in his ears like mad. He needs a bit of aspirin to kick away the pain.

“No… not really though… I just remember that this morning I—“ Frank’s eyes widened in realization. He sat up and stared down at his thigh, the one under the soft maroon strands of cotton.

 “I—“

Gerard saw the fear and disgust linger in Frank’s eyes and leaned in.

He hushed him, stroking his hair slowly.

“It’s okay Frankie.”

Frank’s eyes jolted opened. He grabbed Gerard’s hand which was stroking the top of his head.

Gerard was startled by the sudden movement.

Frank looked up to peer into his golden eyes, his darker hazel staring into Gerard’s, fire under the irises as he spat out the words: “Do _not_ call me that.”

Gerard was taken aback by the sudden force of his words, every syllable resonating in his mind like a sonar.

His eyes blacked out, dilated, as he stopped thinking.

_What the fuck?_

Gerard thought.

Before he could even react, his mouth stumbled out the words “Yes Frank, I’m sorry.”

Gerard snatched his hand away from Frank, backing up a few steps from him.

He was breathing heavily from the panic.

He didn’t, he didn’t say that.

But he’d heard it.

He’d felt his mouth move and his tongue fold and his voice erupt from the back of his throat.

But that felt like it was forced out of him. It felt like—

“Did you just…?”

Gerard stared at Frank deeply, his eyes as if shining in the dimly lit room, like a cat stalking a prey. Gerard squinted his eyes, trying to get over the fact that Frank might just had telepathically made him say that he was sorry.

_Wait, what is going on in my head?_

Gerard shook his head frantically, looking away from Frank as he held a hand over is chest.

_Wait, what did he do again? Oh no. oh shit._

“Frank what the fuck did you do to my memories?!”

Frank’s eyes widened before he smirked. “You catch on fast, Gerard.” He muttered, waving a hand in the air.

Gerard dealt with a very sudden, severe, headache that got his feet to sway, holding the wall beside him for balance. It hit him again, what Frank had done to him a few minutes prior. Gerard turned to face Frank, careful not to look in his eyes.

“You’re a telepathic. Are you an indigo?” Gerard questioned, eyes still glued on the floor.

“Yes I am. But you know, have your parents ever taught you to look at the person you’re talking to?" Frank tilted his head to one side, watching as Gerard looked up according to his will.

Gerard’s mind was one thing that was so easy to penetrate, to control and manipulate under his will. Frank let out a low laugh, standing up. He limped slightly toward Gerard.

“How did you do that?” Gerard questioned, his eyes tinted with something that seemed to be curiosity, or just plain fear.

“Like you said, I’m telepathic. How else?” Frank said under his breath. Gerard mouthed a ‘wow’ before he heard Ray from outside the room.

“Gerard!”

Gerard flinched away, rushing toward the door.

“Gerard, Gerard please, get your things, we’re going to New York.” Ray breathed out, his eyes wide, sweat decorating his skin. He had a few clothes around his shoulders and his arms, a duffel bag in one hand.

“What about Frank?” Gerard asked, his eyes trying to soften Ray’s movement. “He comes too, come on just move!” Ray urged, rushing up the stairs and into his room as it closed with a bang.

Gerard walked back into Frank’s room to see him pale, his small body wriggling on a shirt. “Frank? Are you okay?” Gerard asked.

“No I’m not, you better move your ass or we’re all gonna die.” Frank muttered under his breath, reaching for his backpack by the nightstand.

“What is everyone panicking about? Holy shit!” Gerard exclaimed, his hands thrown in the air. Frank grabbed Gerard by the collar of his shirt. “Melior is coming, Gerard, move your fucking ass, listen to your afro friend.”

Frank said nothing else before he reached into Gerard’s mind, watching his eyes delate entirely, his eyes blank, his mouth slack.

 _Get upstairs, get your things, your ID, and cash. Do not leave any information about you behind._ Frank whispered into Gerard’s head.

Gerard said a soft “Okay,” Before his legs started moving, fast, rushing upstairs.

Frank was scared of what he could do, he was terrified of all the possibilities of his power combusting in his head, blowing his brains out would be his first choice when that happens.

But right now, he needed to move fast or he’s gonna die all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things're escalatin'!!  
> .  
> Do any of you guys watch anime?  
> Ugh I am in love with Haikyuu!! right now.  
> \- XoXvl


	15. Chapter Fourteen

They all met in the foyer a few minutes after, Mikey was on the phone with Dallon.

“Dall, I need you to come with Brendon and meet us in the train station.”

“No, Mikey we’re not going to the train station, they could track us too easy, we’re going with my car, please tell him to go somewhere I can pick him up.” Ray said, closing the blinds, locking the windows and shutting off the power.

Gerard was surprisingly quiet, standing in front of Frank with his bag slung over his shoulder, his eyes vacantly staring at the door as if uneasy to just break it down and run for his life. Yet he wasn’t sure what it was he was running from.

“Mikey?” Gerard asked in a small voice.

“Yeah?”

“I still don’t know what a Melior is.”

Mikey could only resist the urge to facepalm in front of his elder brother, smiling before he shifted from foot to foot.

“Gerard, Melior is the organization that hunts us indigos down, they would do anything, and I mean _anything_ to gather us all together to slaughter us for ‘the greater good’.”

“Seriously, Gerard haven’t you been watching TV?” Frank piped up from behind him, now supported with a pair of crutches.

“I don’t really believe what’s on TV…” Gerard muttered under his breath, seeing Ray round a pillar and glance around him, making sure all the windows were boarded up and all the lights were off. He then sighed when he stopped in front of the boys, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Mikes, if I get tired along the way please cover for me, okay?”

Mikey gave Ray a thumbs up and started unlocking the front door to walk outside the safety of their mansion.

Ray threw a look at Frank who was struggling with his backpack.

“Hey, need a hand?” Ray asked. Frank stuck his tongue out the corner of his mouth, footing his backpack by the floor with his one good leg.

“I got it, I’m good.” Frank said, eyes still focused on the backpack below him. Ray sighed and picked it up for him, eliciting an annoyed “Hey!” from Frank.

Gerard stifled his giggle, placing a hand on Frank’s shoulder as he guided the shorter man outside.

“Who said you could touch me?” Frank said, testing the waters, a demand in his voice.

He saw Gerard’s eyes dilate before he complied, taking his hand off his shoulder.

Frank smiled again, feeling overpowered with Gerard’s easy-to-manipulate mind. But of course, he felt like that has to change soon. Not because he feels like they would be battling Melior soon, but he feels like it was a very large disadvantage to him. Telepathic indigos are the most common indigos out there. And if Gerard manages to let his guard down, even the newest telepathic indigo blood could tell him to load a gun and take a bullet to his head.

Frank flinches at the thought, hearing the door being opened for him as he stepped inside carefully. Mikey took hold of his crutches, clicking the button by the shoulder brace and watch it shorten enough to get stuffed in the car.

Frank looked up at him gratefully and Mikey shot him another friendly smile.

“Technology, amirite?” Mikey muttered, giggling to himself. Frank smiled again and shuffled inside the car, Gerard rolling his eyes at the certain kindness Mikey is showing him.

“Mikey stop spoiling the little man.” Gerard whispered as Mikey closed the door to the backseat and climbed into the passengers’ seat next to Ray. “Oh shut up Gerard, the little man’s injured.”

Gerard replied with a scowl, entering the car. He eyed Frank intently.

“What?” Frank decided to ask.

“Please don’t do that terrifying mind thing to me again, you creep me out.”

Frank laughed out loud, locking the door by his side before leaning his head on his propped arm, closing his eyes.

“I can take over your mind a lot cause you never think of anything, you better change that if you don’t want me snooping around in your head…” Frank stated before he was silent.

The car roared to life. But Ray stayed still in his seat, hands on the steering wheel, eyes on the opened gate of their parking spot.

“Ray, what’s wrong?”

Ray tensed.

Frank’s eyes jolted open, back straightening up.

“Melior, five hundred meters down.” Frank said, voice stern.

“I know.” Ray said as a reply, voice cold.

“I could distract them.” Frank said again.

“How? By throwing dirty underwear at them and flash lasers at them? Good luck kid.”

“Will you chill the fuck out? You haven't heard of my plan.”

"Does it involve us dying?"

"Depends on whether or not you want to keep talking."

“Guys shut up, don’t fight,” Mikey said rather loudly.

“I’m saying I could make a distraction and make them run the other way. They’re inching in on us, three hundred meters down.”

“How? I’m not leaving you here just for you to make a distraction and see you get executed on live TV.”

“Who said anything about stepping off the car?” Frank replied, smug.

Ray turned his head over his shoulder to meet with Frank’s eyes.

Frank shot him a smirk.

Ray’s eyes were wide in disbelief before he nodded and smiled, turning his head to face the windshield once more.

“The name’s Frank Iero, and yes Ray, I know you suck at bowling.”

Ray glared at him through the rearview mirror.

“You’re dangerous. I like you.” Ray said.

* * *

 

Ray had drove out the gates of their home, his trust all out on Frank to do what he wanted to do. Ray didn’t usually trust people easily, but he has to. He needed to right now.

“Frank?” Ray said softly.

Frank shut his eyes momentarily, emptying his thought as he respired through his nose, feeling his muscles tense and relax after every intake and outtake of air.

Ray heard a small hush coming out from the backseat. “They’re at that roundabout, we’re gonna drive right pass them and you will not drive this car above 80mph do you understand me, Toro?” Ray turned pale. “Drive right pass them below 80mph? Are you fucking out of your mind?” Ray said in a hushed tone.

“Trust me.” Frank said, eyes already opened, staring back into Ray’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Ray sighed, feet pressing against the pedal slowly. The roundabout suddenly came into view, a big, black Jeep turning round and coming directly their way.

Ray swallowed hard.

Have you ever had that gut wrenching feeling when you were supposed to hand in your homework, but you were too busy playing a game on Play Station that night and you forgot all about it, even though without it you won't get a passing grade? Yeah, Ray feels that way right now. The only difference was the one coming in his direction isn't the sadistic, homophobic, homeroom teacher, instead a car that contained the people that would kill and hunt him down. And what was on the line wasn't his grades, but his life.

“Shh… Trust me on this.” Frank said simply, eyes closed as his hands hovered over the tinted glass by his side.

Frank had never felt a bigger surge of energy flow through him at such a dizzying speed. It felt satisfying. He felt like nothing in the world would stop him right now, and he felt as if he could make someone's brain combust if he wanted to. But he's never done this to anyone before. His father and Gerard not included since that was just mind manipulation. But something more like illusions in one's head? He'd never done before. Especially not in a moving vehicle. 

Of course he knew that he should've thought it through before he made the whole car trust them with their lives. Frank may have a death wish, but that doesn't mean that he wants to kill everyone along with him.

He inhaled deeply through his nose, the air coming out of his lungs from his parted lips, focusing every fiber of his being to concentrate in his target’s mind. He sensed the moving vehicle approaching them, traces and ribbons of gold he could picture dancing across his closed eyes.

_What’s this?_

Luck seemed to have abandoned him when he sensed _two_ minds moving in the Jeep.

He had a momentary panic before he calmed down his thoughts, gathering it together while he penetrated one’s mind, the driver. All Frank needed was to tug on the seemingly golden ribbon, the ones no one else would see but him. He did it after one try, sensing the driver's muscles to relax under his control. Frank immediately accessed his field of vision, making sure he's blocked it out.

Then he tilted his head slowly to one side, eyes still closed.

It took him so much tries to penetrate the other’s thoughts, it was so captivated. It was filled with thoughts, concerns. He scrunched up his face so hard he felt a migraine develop in the back of his head, whimpering noises leaving his lips as he tried once more to penetrate the other’s mind.

He felt golden strand of power at the tips of his fingers, in his head. He felt the power surging around him, flowing freely, teasing, tempting for him to tug at it. If only he could reach…

He reached out for the ribbon of gold, fingers delved with thirst for the contact with his power. Hungry. He yanked the ribbon, feeling his mind penetrate both the targets.

He smiled to himself.

And felt something run down his nose. Frank ignored it, focusing more on blinding his enemies.

“Frank?” Ray stated, fear was lacing his voice. Then Frank knew the Jeep was a few mere feet away.

_Don’t worry, I got this._

He was grateful that Ray still trusted him, the car moving agonizingly slow as Frank cracked one eye open to see what he has done.

The Jeep drove pass them, the driver’s eyes focused on the road.

Frank almost felt himself pee in his pants from excitement. Then his senses were on high alert when all his hair stood on end, a shiver running through his body, down his spine. He jerked his head toward the other target, the one seated on the passenger's side.

He caught the passenger’s eye, looking back at him. 

Frank's heart felt like it stopped beating in his chest altogether. It was worse than any kind of jumpscare. It was way more terrifying than the things his father has ever done to him. And Frank almost saw his life flash before his eyes, expecting the passenger to yank the driver out of Frank's spell and finish them right then and there.

Frank wanted to look away, but he couldn't. As if he was captivated, as if he'd just realized the juxtaposition of the passenger sitting there, smirking unctuously at him, standing out among all the things surrounding them, as if every thing else was a blur, all Frank would see was the passenger he thought he'd failed to blind. It was a she, her hair a bright orange shade, teeth showing as she smiled cheekily at Frank.

Frank tensed under the stare.

He was sure he’d blinded both of them how did they—

_Oh don’t look so happy. I’ll track you down, even to the next city, Frank Iero._

Frank jumped away from the window, his back meeting with Gerard’s side.

_She's in my head. How is she in my head?_

Frank looked scared, blood draining from his face as his chest heaves for air.

“Frank? What happened?” Ray asked, scared himself, listening to Frank's short gasps for air. 

“Keep driving. It’s okay.”

Frank watched the orange haired girl as the smug smile still decorated her lips, twitching slightly in anticipation.

_Be grateful I let you slide…_

She whispered into Frank’s mind.

Frank felt another round of liquid run down his nose, but his eyes stay glued to the tinted windows.

“We drove far enough.” Ray sighed in relief, speeding up gradually.

Frank dropped his spell, letting go of his power before he sat up.

“We owe you, Iero.” Ray said, glancing at him through the mirror again before his eyes widened in shock.

“Your nose is bleeding,” Ray stated.

Frank touched the stream of blood running down his nose and looked down.

His mind wasn’t all entirely with him yet, being shoved away to be occupied by three minds including his own in his head wasn’t even something exactly healthy to do.

Frank wiped the blood off himself with an arm.

“I’m fine. Just shaken.”

“What did you do to the car?” Mikey asked, excitement obvious in his statement.

“I did nothing, I made them think we aren’t here.”

Mikey gaped as he looked  _so_ fascinated, raining Frank with questions. But he wasn’t with them anymore.

His eyes were heavy lidded as he fell into subspace, his mind drifting everywhere around him but inside his own head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The upcoming chapter could be one of my favorites so far!  
> I still suck at action and fight scenes though, so I'm going to improve that in a few<3  
> Q: "What song is currently stuck in your head?"  
> A: the song currently stuck in my head is 'Kill Me' by The Pretty Reckless  
> -XoXvl


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finals are almost here, dang flabbit.

He walked down the white halls, his black dress shoe clicking over the tiles over and over as silence draped over him like a cape. The stillness everyone seemed to be frozen in when they saw his face, his appearance in the certain office.

He smiled, smug over his reputation. Everyone here knows better than to mess with him. They knew what he was capable of doing, and what his team was capable of doing. And no one would want to see how ugly it gets when someone decides to push the wrong buttons on his control panel.

He walked into the office labeled _President_ without even knocking, barging his way in, a slight sway of his arrogant hips, his head tilting to one side as he grabbed a random cup of coffee by the coffee table.

“Agent Biersack.”

The mention of his name sent his head to jolt upward, making his elegant black quiff bounce slightly on the top of his head.

“Yeah, that’s me.” He said, sipping on coffee as he strutted in front of the desk of his superior.

“I’ve heard you’ve recruited the indigo.” The older man said, his sharp blue eyes dancing over the younger’s features.

“Yes, dad, yes I have.”

The older man seem to cringe when his son decided to call him ‘dad’ the sound being so foreign, so  alien to his ears.

“But I don’t understand why you did, Andy. We _hunt_ down indigos, I thought I told you that.”

Andy laughed it off and waved his hand half-heartedly, sitting on the leather seat across from his dad, his legs propped upward to lay atop the desk.

“Well, daddy beloved, I seem to have grown fancy for the indigo that I’ve recruited…”

The older shook his head again, sighing. “How do I expect you to take over for me when you can’t even understand what we do for a living, Mr. Biersack.”

Andy downed the coffee in one gulp, staring at his dad.

“I’m sorry, were you addressing me, or yourself?”

His dad slammed his fist against the dark mahogany desk.

“You never take anything seriously, that’s just your problem!”

Andy sat up straight, his head propped on his hand above his dad’s desk.

“I can use your brain for the company, son, but if you can’t manage to understand that what we do is _hunt_ indigos for a living, and _not_ recruit them, you’ll soon be mistaking your job for the White Skull!”

Andy scoffed, that soon turned into a chuckle, and soon became a low, wheezing laugh.

“Oh daddy, daddy, daddy. Does it bother you when I call you that? I don’t care though, I’ll just call you what I want.”

Andy stood from his seat, circling his father’s desk before stopping in front of his seated old man.

“Have you forgotten who I really am, father?” He asked, tone demanding. Sharp, cold.

His dad flinched in his seat. Andy lifted his hand up in demonstration, balling it up into a fist, clenching and unclenching it in front of his dad’s face as he continued talking.

“Have you forgotten what you injected into my blood when I was just a newborn? How you figured out _instantly_ that I was a disgusting, low indigo, and you wouldn’t lie to my mom won’t you?”

“You killed me.”

His dad stared back into his son’s eyes. The same piercing blue shade looking back at him, the only difference being the fire in his eyes, the burn for vengeance.

“I did not. You’re alive and well as we speak.” His dad hissed.

Andy chuckled. “Oh dad, really?”

“I was a beautiful psychokinetic piece of ass, and you decided to take it away from me. Are you afraid that your son would read your thoughts? Are you afraid of all the possibilities a psychokinetic can do? We are the strongest of our kind, you know, we’re basically king of the indigos…”

“And you took it from me.”

“If you like the indigos so much, then why did you kill one?” His dad said, squinting his eyes.

Andy turned his head to face his dad, so fast, his dad was relieved he didn’t get a whiplash from it.

“Who? Red Hot? Kellin Quinn?”

The older nodded his head, not a word escaping his lips.

“He knew something. Something about the White Skull, something about my mother’s death that he won’t tell me.”

He stared meaningfully at his dad. “And what _you_ won’t tell me neither.”

Andy clutched the cross necklace dangling from his white column neck, eyes piercing into his dad’s.

The silence rung over the air, the uncomfortable, awkward, silence.

“I understand if you don’t want to join the Melior, son—“ His dad started.

“Na-uh-ah,” Andy shook a finger in the air to stop his dad from speaking.

“Wasn’t finished.” He said again, chuckling.

“You know I’m over with being an indigo and all that shit, how you injected your own blood into my veins and bleed out my indigo blood. I must say, dad, that was amazing for you to do!”

The older stared at the monster before him, the one pacing before his eyes, calling him ‘dad’.

“I would be more than _honored_ to join the Melior dad. I would be _ecstatic_ when I kill that wretched Dawson.”

His dad cracked something that seemed to be a somewhat smile, like Frankenstein, proud over his own monster.

“Oh and you will see, dad. I will prove to you why you wanted me for Melior. I will show you just how much I would slaughter the little White Skull, and rid this world of impure, disgusting indigos. And you’ll be so proud of me, you _know_ almost killing me was worth it.”

“But you _recruited_ one.”

“Agent Williams isn’t someone who is exactly buddy-buddy with the indigos, dad. And besides,”

Andy turned from his dad, pouring wine into a nearby glass before he snatched it and walked toward the door.

“I struck her a deal she can’t even refuse.”

“Can I ask what you promised her? Because last time I recall you made a promise to someone and ended up killing the man.” His dad hissed.

Andy laughed. “Well that’s because he didn’t give me what I wanted, daddy beloved.”

Andy stopped in his tracks, sipping his wine tentatively.

“I’m quite sure Williams won’t fail me.”

“What did you promise her, Andy?” His dad repeated.

“A cure.”

Andy looked at his dad over his shoulder, piercing blue eyes making his own dad shiver silently in his seat.

“To make her mundane.”

His father gaped.

“But that kind of injection…”

“Bla, bla, bla, could kill the test subject bla, bla, bla. Well, _that_ is why we hunt down indigos and _not_ kill them!”

“They’re humans, Andy, not some farm of guinea pigs.”

“Oh please why the sudden sympathy for the wretched indigos?”

His dad stayed silent.

“I want them as test subjects, better inform that to the company.”

“Ooh, and I want the lab too, and the training grounds. Wait, I _don’t_ need the training grounds that belongs to the company, tee hee silly me! Am I talking too much, dad?”

His dad sighed, clutching the bridge of his nose. “Do what you want, son, you’re giving me a headache.”

“I’ll see you later at the meeting, dad.” Andy said before walking out, almost slamming the door behind him.

* * *

 

“What are we even doing here anyway?” Dallon asked, yawning as he did. Ray rolled his eyes. “We’re here to keep our asses safe.”

Frank stepped out of the car, his legs stumbling over themselves, with him finding his head which was still spinning, pounding on the back from the previous encounter with that mysterious orange haired Melior. One who had promulgated her existence, making it so much clearer that Frank wasn’t the only psychokinetic indigo there is.

Of course, Frank knew that. He’s known a few people that had element bending abilities, even some who he’d heard rebelled against the Melior. He’d heard of the indigos that could blind you, numb your senses. Even the one that has a sharp dagger proficiency it’s actually terrifying.

Frank shivered at the thought of such a big world, and felt someone poke his shoulder.

He snapped out of his trance and glanced sideways at the man seeking his attention, to face a very good-looking man, one taller— _way_ taller than he was. Who was in a black blazer and a white shirt, along with a pair of dusty gray jeans.

Frank shot the man a smile, knowing that he was in fact Gerard’s friend.

“Hi, so um I’ve been meaning to ask, are you gonna stick with us for a while or…?”

Frank tilted his head to one side, seeing passed the man’s skull to find his thoughts resonating throughout his head. Beautiful.

Frank scrunched up his face.

“Yeah, Dallon. I don’t really have anywhere else to go right now, and you can tell Gerard that if he wanted to ask me a question he could’ve just asked me in person. My name is Frank Iero by the way.”

Frank held out a hand for Dallon to shake, and he did so with a shocked face. Frank walked passed Dallon, legs braced by crutches as he started to catch up to Mikey, asking him if he could get coffee before going to Ray’s house.

Dallon could see Mikey react excitedly, almost jumping around in his sneakers as his figure resonated a very joyous aura. He was so fascinated by the fact that he wasn’t the only freak with the mind games, and he’d never been more grateful to have a freak in common, as cruel as it sounds.

Gerard scoffed, rolling his eyes as he beckoned for Dallon to follow him suit.

Dallon was still gaping as he grabbed his suitcase off the wet asphalt, eyes raving over Frank’s back as he watched the shorter man limp-drag his way up the grand staircases of Ray’s mansion. Dallon could see Frank struggling, but refusing to take Mikey’s hand, grabbing his own backpack, slinging it over his shoulders, before he started half-jumping his way up the stairs.

“That guy is one real enigma.” He said to himself. Gerard scrunched up his face and turned his head toward Dallon. “No he isn’t, he’s just a little punk wannabe midget.”

Dallon snickered, fisting Gerard’s side.

“You can’t say that about someone you barely know, Gerard,” Dallon retorted, his feet half dragging over the asphalt.

“Trust me, I know just how much punk wannabe he gets,” Gerard laughed with Dallon, looking around. “Where’s Brendon?”

Dallon hummed as a response, smiling as he eyed the skies above his head. Gray, dark clouds were still lingering above them, as if signaling that they weren’t done with the rain before, indicating the second round of rain water shower in a few minutes.

Dallon wasn’t mistaken, for soon light drizzle started to fall from the gray clouds above them. Dallon shielded the top of his head immediately with a hand.

“He said he wants to meet a friend of his first, I don’t know who, but he said he’ll be back before sunset.”

Gerard nodded his head knowingly.

“Man, I could go for some wine right now,” Gerard muttered under his breath as thunder stroke above him and his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Q: "Favorite song out of 'Death of A Bachelor'?"  
> A: "Golden Days, Death of A Bachelor and Emperor's New Clothes!"  
> Brendon Urie's vocals makes me so jealous  
> -XoXvl


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real quick update <3  
> -XoXvl

Brendon had made an appointment with his ex-high school band member as soon as he heard that Ray was taking him to New York.

He wanted them to meet at the coffee shop just a few blocks away from Ray’s mansion, cause he remembered what Dallon told him about the Melior, and it gave him ice cold chills to the bone.

Maybe he shouldn’t have gone alone, but he didn’t want to keep anyone back with his _mundane_ business.

Okay, so maybe he was jealous of everyone having abnormalities. Maybe he was jealous that Dallon felt like he belonged more when they were hanging out with Ray, Gerard, or even that scar eyed midget that was sleeping in the backseat of Ray’s SUV earlier.

He was jealous that he didn’t feel like he had the same importance as the others. And he might be a little jealous that he doesn’t need protecting.

Honestly Brendon just needed a mundane company.

So he called the only person he knew would respond to his pleas. And that one man was Andy Hurley.

Andy Hurley was that one dude he found on a dating app. Why Brendon was on a dating app in the first place wasn’t supposed to be questioned.

He found Andy, the younger male, doubting his sexuality over time, and finally decided to give it a go with Brendon. Just coffee, chatting, a few laughs, gags, kisses. But nothing was ever awkward when Andy came out as a bisexual, and now he has a girlfriend. Of sorts.

Brendon sat by the window in the coffee shop, sipping on his steaming hot mocha latte when he heard the bell jingle, his head shooting upward as he caught a glimpse of a slight burly male with orange hair and a light stubble, scanning the room to find a certain face, before his eyes landed on Brendon and widened for a moment, before it softened.

Brendon waved, seeing the man walk toward his booth and slide into his seat.

“Oh my god it’s been so long, Bren! Wait, can I call you that? Does that make you feel awkward?”

Brendon chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah man, way too long huh?”

* * *

 

Andy Biersack paced around in the small white laboratory, his eyes scanning over the vials filled with various unctuous liquids, one that made his eyes sparkle with what seemed to be madness, hunger, desire for power. One you would see in the glimpse of the eyes of a man that hadn’t seen sunlight for weeks, and had just stepped outside for what seemed to be the first time in forever.

“Eureka,” he whispered silently to himself, his eyes glazing with profound hunger. “Eureka!” he screamed on the top of his lungs, throat emitting a howl.

He laughed out loudly, his hands reaching for his head as his fingers tangled with his unruly hair that hadn’t seen a single product in what seemed to be ages. When in truth, he’d been down in that lab for four days now.

He ran around his little lab before jumping and clicking his heels together.

And suddenly, all it shattered when he heard a moan of pain from his surgery table.

He froze where he was, back turning ever so slowly to stare at the being that just emitted the noise.

Andy then heard sniffling, sobbing, and panicked, raised, voices.

He knitted his eyebrows, annoyed.

“Well, well, well… you’re alive…”

He walked over to his test subject, one with long brown hair, brown eyes, and his slightly tan skin, now stained with some of his own blood. Some even burnt under some of the chemicals Andy had tested on his skin.

“W-where am I?!” His test subject screamed, squirming wildly in his straps.

“Test subject number twenty one,” Andy said to a tiny voice recorder, ignoring the male strapped to the table.

“Please let me go, please…” his subject whimpered under the shining surgery light in his eyes.

“Abnormality, electrokinesis.”

Andy cocked his head to one side.

“What’s your name?” He asked, eyes dark, ablaze with rage, gluttony for blood, as if.

“V-Victor F-Fue--!”

Andy grabbed a scalpel by the table, slashing his subject’s chest. His subject screamed out in pain, one sound Andy muffled beneath his palm.

“He still remembers his name, yet he cannot fight against the serum…”

He slashed his subject once more, deeper than before, blood flowing out of his wounds and onto Andy’s pristine white sleeves.

“He can still fight the serum if he wanted to, but even under a few days, he will not survive.”

Andy looked down at his subject, pouting.

“Safe to say that, test subject number twenty one,”

Andy looked up at the ceiling before jabbing the scalpel deep into his subject’s chest, straight to the heart. He felt his subject spasm and squirm under him, his chest rising and falling rapidly as his eyes trailed to see what had killed him. He let out one last muffled scream before he was silent, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Was a fail.” Andy finished, hands leaving his subject’s mouth, wiping it against his lab coat.

“What a waste.”

He was silent for minutes.

“I need something stronger, yet something that would torture them _more_. Something I could control… Kill under my command…”

He rubbed his chin before clapping his hands together, exclaiming: “Bring me test subject twenty two!”

Not even bothering to say please.

* * *

 

Brendon stitched his eyebrows together.

“What do you mean you’re going on a few stages of change? Didn’t you go through that in high school?”

Andy cringed. “I’m not joking, Brendon,” he leaned across the table to whisper silently at Brendon.

Brendon stopped joking and looked back into Andy’s eyes. “You’re not telling me that you’re an—“

Andy stiffened. “Is it that obvious that I have abnormalities?” He whispered silently. Brendon’s eyes widened as he heard Andy reveal his own secret, sending Brendon to lean his back against the soft plush backrest of the café’s chair.

“I thought you were mundane,” Brendon muttered under his breath. Andy shook his head, reaching a hand out to touch Brendon’s forearm. “I’m so sorry if I disappointed you, but please don’t call in Melior on me,” Andy whispered.

Brendon snorted and chuckled wryly. “Believe me, Melior is the only reason why I’m here right now,”

“You mean you’re abnormal too?” excitement laced Andy’s words. Brendon shook his head. “Nah, I’m completely mundane, but Dallon is though.”

There was an awfully awkward silence ringing in the air, neither deciding to speak up until Brendon decided that it was impossible for him to stay quiet for a mass amount of time.

“So, what do you do?”

Andy raised an eyebrow questioningly, and Brendon just gestured with his hands until Andy gets the message with a mouthed ‘oh’ a few minutes later.

“I can numb people’s senses,”

This time, Brendon was the one to raise his eyebrows questioningly.

“I mean, I can blind you for a certain amount of time, make you go deaf for a certain amount of time, make your skin numb from touch, and all that biz.”

“Really?! Wow, that is so cool!”

Andy hushed his friend before sipping on his lukewarm coffee. He made a face.

“I hate it though, my abnormality,” Andy whispered.

“B-But why? I mean look at me, dude, I’m mundane!” Brendon whisper-exclaimed.

“Yeah, but you know how some people control lightning, fire, ice and people’s minds and all that shit meanwhile I just make you go numb for certain amount of time.”

Andy banged his forehead with a thud against the wooden table. “I just wish I could do more, y’know?”

Brendon was silent. “All my friends they’re much more powerful than I am, and when I go on missions and shit I just wait in the base or—“ Andy clamped a hand over his mouth. Too late though, Brendon heard what he had said.

“ _Missions_? What _missions_?”

Andy still decided to shut up, his face turning paler by the second.

“You mean--?!”

Andy hushed his friend again.

“Rian is gonna kill me, big time.” Andy said under his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Q: "Favorite song(s) off The Black Parade?"  
> A: "Cancer, I Don't Love You, House of Wolves and My Way Home Is Through You."


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally updated! I'm running out of bridges, and this will result in fewer updates until I fix my plotholes...  
> But worry not fellow frens!  
> -XoXvl

When Frank said that Gerard needed to go through _mind training_ , he didn’t think that Frank was brutal enough to fill his head with gruesome images of execution. And Gerard thought he was used to those, thanks to all the hours he spent playing Mortal Kombat, but the real thing itself had still gotten his stomach clench and bile rise to his throat.

“Come on, it helps you fix your empty-headedness!” Frank had said that afternoon. But right now it has been roughly four hours after Brendon had gone for yet another meeting with his friend, and Dallon had been restless. _So_ restless apparently that right now they’re going to the direction some people last saw Brendon.

And Frank was still littering Gerard’s thoughts with gruesome images as the car drove on by, making Gerard squeal to himself time after time. One particularly loud and high pitched squeal made Frank crack up.

“You sound so much like a girl,” Frank said, laughing as he clutched his stomach and doubling over himself. Gerard opened his mouth to say something, but then decided otherwise, closing it back up and pouting once he saw Ray’s stern look glaring at him from the rearview mirror.

Gerard was staring out the window, careful to keep his thoughts busy so that Frank wouldn’t invade his privacy yet again. Gerard’s eyes fell on a certain black jeep across the street. He paled.

“Ray…?”

Ray hummed as a response, enough to send Gerard to point in the direction of the familiar black Jeep. Ray’s eyes widened. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath before he gradually steps on the gas. Frank followed their eyes, catching a glimpse of the black Jeep tailing them. Frank gasped audibly.

“We have to find Brendon and get the fuck out of here!” Frank exclaimed. “I can slow them down,” Dallon said, albeit a little timidly, before Frank shook his head.

“They’ll know an indigo is in the car, let them tail us, just don’t let them get vision on Brendon, they might recognize him.” Frank said between the loud, obnoxious thumping in his chest.

“Ray, how far away is the estimated café?”

“Around seven hundred meters down,”

“Alright,”

The car was almost silent as the car engine roared under the acceleration, each tense under the silence. “No one is executing anyone’s ass,” Frank suddenly said, making all eyes turn on him.

“Not today, not tomorrow. Not as long as I’m alive, not on my fucking watch.”

Gerard‘s eyes widened in fascination at the younger man, his short and clear speech rising some of their confidence, boosting their trust for him, and Gerard felt his blood rush a notch faster. Either from the adrenaline or the way Frank had technically said that he would protect them and never would let Melior execute them, over his dead body, he didn’t know.

Gerard felt his heart swell as his cheeks aflame. He looked away from Frank, eyeing the back of Mikey’s head sitting in the passenger’s seat.

He had the sudden urge to just lunge in and plunder his brother with kisses and apologies. Somehow, the feeling in his gut told him that he was going to die tonight.

Gerard eyed Frank again from the corner of his eye. There was always _something_ about Frank that Gerard really couldn’t fathom, one thing that he didn’t understand himself, _why_ he was so attracted to the younger man. Gerard had never felt this way toward someone, not even—

“Gerard, did you hear me?” Mikey said, snapping Gerard out of his train of thought. Gerard cocked his head sideways to get a better look at Mikey, who was almost pale.

“No,” Frank interrupted before Gerard opened his mouth to speak “I’m going down to get Brendon, Gerard can stay in the car.”

Gerard turned to face Frank, who he saw tense under his stare, almost nervously, protective. In a way.

The car started slowing down, and Frank got his hands on the door handle, breathing slowly through his nose and out through his parted lips. Ray nodded silently, signaling for Frank to go. Frank took one final breath before eliciting one order.

“If I don’t come back in fifteen minutes, leave. Then you’ll just lose one person, Brendon won’t get targeted, it’s me they want.”

Gerard’s eyes widened. Before he could comment on Frank’s orders, he’d stepped out of the car, pulling his black hood above his head. Gerard just stared as he watched Frank stuff his hands into his pocket and walked into the coffee shop nonchalantly.

* * *

 

Frank was glad his ankle had healed so fast in a matter of days, it was thanks to the wooden braces Ray had used on him. He’d thank Ray over and over again, telling him just how much it helped. Now he had to pay them back.

Frank walked into the coffee shop, smelling the all too familiar scent of coffee and baking brownies. He whiffed the air, eyes scanning the periphery for Brendon. He had his watch set on 15 minutes. In case he didn’t get a chance to get back in the car with Gerard, he would drag Brendon out of the coffee shop, give him his phone that had GPS on Ray, and put up a good enough fight to distract the Melior. Maybe get executed in the morning.

He took a deep breath at the thought, knowing full well that they don’t stand a chance against the Melior. But he never would hand the people he’s learned to trust for just a matter of a solid week. Perhaps that’s what drags him down the most, people tend to use his kindness and selflessness for their own selfish sake.

Frank’s tried to make things harder for him to be selfless, but he wasn’t that kind of person.

Frank walked up to the barista by the counter, somehow familiar with the way his quiff was highlighted in a light, almost beige blond. He didn’t eye the barista longer, ordering one cup of coffee before handing in a dollar bill, and darting his eyes away. He could almost swear he saw the barista stare at him.

Frank stared down at his watch that indicated he had ten minutes left. _Shit_. He cursed in his head, clutching the Styrofoam cup tight in his hand. At the final moment he seemed to have given up, he saw Brendon by the corner of the shop, seated in a sofa booth in dim lighting with a very burly man with a light stuble and tattooed sleeves. And Frank knew who it was the second he laid eyes on his orange hair.

He speed-walked toward the booth, sliding in suddenly into their conversation.

“So, Brendon, do you plan on dying tonight?” He hissed, eyes darting everywhere across the coffee shop.

Brendon’s eyes widened a fraction, Andy paled.

Frank turned his eyes on the two, making each exhale a string of breaths. “Frank you scared me shitless,” Brendon spoke between gritted teeth.

“What on earth are you still doing here? Come on, Ray is parked outside, they’re waiting for us, Melior is closing in.”

“They’re what?!” Andy practically exclaimed. Frank hushed him immediately, eyes darting back and forth between them and the door. “They’re tailing us, I think,” Frank whispered.

“Not you though, Andy, they’re just tailing my group.”

The reality of Frank’s speech brought him to snap. “Wait a sec, you’re an abnormal?” Frank added in a small voice. Andy rubbed the back of his head nervously.

“What a reunion, yeah Iero?”

Frank glanced down at his watch that said he had indeed less than five minutes to leave. He grabbed Brendon by the arm, his other hand already stuffed in his pocket to grab his phone.

“Look Andy, maybe one day later we’ll have this kind of reunion and shit, okay? I’m so sorry, we have so much catching up to do,” Frank forced a smile, tugging Brendon out of the booth.

But Brendon hung on so tight to the table that his fists started turning white. “No!” Brendon hissed at Frank. “I’m not done yet, I’m not finished!”

“It doesn’t fucking matter, we’ll be dead in seconds if you don’t move it!” Frank hissed back, not to loud, but he felt the barista’s attention from earlier shift toward him and Brendon.

“No, Frank you don’t understand!” Brendon slipped from Frank’s grip, clutching Andy’s arm. “Please, Andy, I’ll pay you any amount, just give me his contact, email, number, _anything_ ,” Brendon whispered, a yelp addressed at the end of his statement for Frank yanked him away from Andy.

“I can’t, Bren, that’s not an okay thing for me to do! He might kill me…” Andy hushed, eyes _also_ darting toward the door. Andy went white as a sheet as the door to the coffee shop sprung opened, two men in black suits walking in.

Frank followed his eyes, turning a matching shade before he stuffed his phone into Brendon’s hand, pushing Brendon back into the seated booth, squeezing in himself next to Brendon. “Here, I have Ray tracked on GPS right here, if you would just follow that red arrow, you’ll find him. I have his number here as well, you can tell him to pick you up, okay? Tell me you understand, Urie!” Frank said, eyes peering into Brendon’s, making sure he understood every word. Brendon nodded, taking Frank’s phone and pocketing it.

“Times up,” Frank said under his breath. “Make sure you’re invisible, Hurley. We’ll see each other again. Stay safe. I’m sorry.”

Frank pulled away from the booth, marching up to the two gentlemen by the barista a few feet away. He balled his hands into fists as blood rushed through his system, making his heart beat just that much faster, equal to the amount of adrenaline he feels rushing down his bloodstream. He was ready. To put up a fight. To get executed in the morning.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered under his breath to no one in particular, before he heard the bell jingle by the front door as a familiar sight of red hair walked into the coffee shop looking sick.

Frank’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of Gerard, his face mirroring his in an instant, rushing the other way to get in Gerard’s way.

_No. not him. Please not him._

_Gerard please get out of the way, they’ll get you too._

_Fuck Gerard why couldn’t you just stay put and listen to me?!_

Frank moved by his instincts, shoving Gerard out of the way and aiming back toward Brendon’s booth. “What the fuck are you doing here, I told you to stay in the car,” Frank hissed at Gerard’s ear, feeling the other tense and shiver under his touch.

“You took too long, I just wanted to see if you were okay,” Gerard replied.

Frank’s heart swelled at the statement, but he pushed the emotion aside. “Gerard I don’t matter, okay? It’s _you_ who I need to keep safe, okay?” Frank said between gritted teeth, shoving Gerard softly against the booth Brendon was in.

“Stay.” Frank hissed. Gerard wanted to reach out and say ‘no’, but he was stopped when Frank turned to see the two men in suits eye him.

Frank gulped down a breath he didn’t know he was holding before he turned to Gerard. “Don’t watch TV tomorrow morning,” Frank said, forcing a laugh before he heard a loud, “Hey hey, gentlemen how may I help you?!”

Frank turned his back so fast he thought he’d endure a whiplash from it.

“Maaaaaan those are some _snazzy_ ass suits eh?!”

Frank eyed the barista making such _loud_ noises, his hands maneuvering over making a drink while his eyes raved over the two men in suits, a low whistle of amazement escaping his lips. Frank _knew_ he’d recognized that voice, that attitude. That barista was his long lost –maybe forgotten- best friend, Jack Barakat. He didn’t know what took him so long to recognize his own ex best friend’s voice. He now felt a tad bit of a jerk.

Frank smiled to himself, grabbing Gerard by the arm and yanking him out of his seat. “Change of plans, move. _Now_.” Frank ordered at both Brendon and Gerard, and shooting Andy an apologetic look. Andy smiled at them, as if whispering a subtle good luck.

He made sure Gerard and Brendon walked before him, he urged them forward while his eyes still stared at the men and the barista coaxing in a one sided conversation.

“Dude, how much did your suit cost you?” Jack said, in a loud, preppy voice.

The two men scrunched up their faces, beyond annoyed.

Jack seemed to sense their uncomfortable demeanor and laughed. Out loud.

“Oh, hahaha! Where are my manners? How can I help you two? Espresso? Frappe? Cappuccino maybe?” Jack turned to grab his notepad, as if to take their orders.

“Good evening sir, we’re from the Melior. I am Agent York and this is my partner, Agent Davis. We are here to f—“

“Ooh! Do you guys share the same first names? What kind of name is _Agent_ _?_ Is that foreign? Oh nah, what was I thinking?! Ah ha ha! I’m joking! I’m not _that_ dumb y’know!” Jack burst into another fit of giggles as the two agents just felt more annoyed by the minute.

Frank was by the door the second Jack had stopped laughing. Maybe he was just imagining it, but he saw Jack’s eyes fall on him, winking.

Frank stood for a split second, throwing a smile in Jack’s direction. A smile they used to share all the time. A smile that simply says _relax will ya bro? I gotcha._

Frank mumbled a ‘thank you’ to no one in particular before he stepped out quietly from the coffee shop. A contrast to Jack who was telling the two agents knock-knock jokes –practically- on the top of his lungs.

Frank urged his company into the backseat of Ray’s car before he shot the coffee shop one last glance.

_I hope I see you again, thank you Jack._

He whispered into Jack’s thoughts. Frank practically _felt_ Jack smile, replying his best friend’s message in his head.

_You fucking bet, will meet you soon enough, you have no idea._

Frank was confused by his reply, but ignored it anyway, climbing into the backseat as his side pressed against Gerard’s. “Step on it,” Frank whispered to Ray, who all but slammed on the gas pedal before Frank had even got a chance to _close the goddamn door_.

* * *

 

The car was silent half of the ride back to the middle of nowhere. Not until Dallon snapped out of his adrenaline ridden state, jabbing Brendon at the side of his gut. “What the actual _fuck_ were you thinking?!” Brendon winced, his eyes laced with double the amount of venom in Dallon’s eyes.

“I was just trying to _help_!”

The car fell silent.

" _How_ on earth do you plan on doing that?! Getting yourself killed isn't very helpful-wise, Brendon!"

“You think I don’t feel useless being the only mundane person in the pack?!” Brendon exclaimed.

“You think I don’t _envy_ any of you guys?!”

“I don’t _want_ to feel so goddamned _useless_!”

Brendon was practically screaming in Dallon’s ear, his voice ringing in the small confined space of the steel car they were locked up in, together.

“I just want to stop being the damsel in every fucking situation we run into, Dallon.”

The car fell silent once more, making it just the more awkward around the group, with all the anger resonating through each other, snapping one another out of their trances, making so much more sense that they might just saved themselves from the Melior.

Ray was the first to laugh out loud. Funny thing, his laugh was. It was more like short gasps for air, and just silent vibrato of his tiny voice. He stepped on the brakes, his forehead meeting with the steering wheel, hand clutching the top of the leather-bound wheel.

Ray laughed out louder, eyes dancing toward Mikey, who started laughing as well. Gerard shared glances with Frank, both seemed to be thinking the same thing.

_They’ve gone mad._

Frank raised his eyebrows in horror when Ray craned his neck to face him. “We just escaped out deaths,” Ray said between his wheezing breaths. And at that exact moment, Frank knew what kind of hype Ray was feeling. Maybe he’d never felt it before. But Frank's felt it almost every day of his life when he would scramble away from his father.

Frank smiled.

“Yeah Ray, we sure did.”

Ray smacked the back of Frank’s shoulder, the smack sound resonating loudly as Frank clutched his burning skin, mouthing out a soundless ‘ow’ and forcing a laugh that sounded more like he was going to borderline _cry_.

Gerard giggled at Frank’s reaction, absentmindedly wrapping an arm around Frank’s said shoulders. “Thank you, Frank.” Gerard whispered.

Frank could feel his face heat up from the simple statement Gerard’s lips carried, his mind slapping himself across the face for such a stupid reaction. Frank only smiled as a response.

Ray stepped on the gas once more. And the car came back into silence. This time without the tension, just comfortable, tired, silence. Plus Gerard’s arm snaked over Frank’s shoulders.

“What did you get from Andy, anyway?” Frank asked a few minutes into silence. All eyes turned toward Brendon, who was fidgeting in his seat.

“Nothing, really. I didn’t manage to get his contact anyway, it’s useless.”

Frank raised an eyebrow. “What did you need his contact for? And who is this said _him_?”

Brendon eyed Frank, brown eyes as if glimmering in the luminescent sunset lights projected by the big solar bunch they call their sun as it made its way passed the filmed windows of Ray’s SUV.

“I found this organization Andy was in, it’s called the White Skull.” Brendon started, eyes scanning each and every one of his company’s.

“He said if we ever needed a place to go, they’d gladly take us, help us with passports and all that shit,” Brendon continued, excitement almost present in his voice.

Frank rolled his eyes and scoffed loudly.

“Bullshit,” Frank retorted, smiling to no one in particular.

“Bull fucking shit. The White Skull has been dead ever since Red Hot was executed. Even if they want to take us in, I’m not going in.” Frank said again.

“You do what you want to do, but I don’t want in on White Skull.”

“But can we just _think_ about it though?” Mikey asked.

“I mean, if they’re active enough to give us shelter and—“

“I can protect all you just fine.” Frank interrupted, sending the car to another flatline silence.

“Alone?” Gerard asked in a small voice, the first time he’d spoken since last night.

“And what happens if you die? We die too?”

Frank turned to meet Gerard’s eyes, gold already delved into the matching pair of his hazel, almost telepathically communicating with one another.

“Ray, where are we heading?” Frank decided to steer away from the conversation, small figure wriggling away from Gerard’s hold on his grip. “Baltimore.” Ray answered shortly.

Frank smiled at the mention of the city where he met Jack, his mind drifting off to his long lost friend once more before he snapped out of it. “You have a house there, yeah?”

Ray nodded, looking back at Frank through the rearview mirror.

“Don’t go there. They’ll be waiting for you, stalking. Drive a little further to Washington, rent a hotel for a few nights, then we head home to Jersey.”

Ray nodded, his eyes falling on Mikey to signal that he needed a break from the steering. The car stopped and Mikey took Ray’s place by the driver’s seat, Ray already fast asleep the second his head leaned against his propped fist on the door handle.

Gerard’ words carry nothing but the truth. And Frank knew that he’d to keep them safe, either with or without White Skull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case some are confused on where Frank found the phone he gave to Brendon, it's actually Ray's phone. Thus why it has Ray tracked on GPS.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lack of updates increasing rapidly... for I am very lost in this work right now...  
> I don't know if I can fix it without being cheesy and prevent myself from speeding things up into an oblivion where nothing can even make sense one after another.  
> My sincerest apologies.  
> -XoXvl

The drive to Washington was such a long, boring one, and Frank was going to lose it the next time he sees Dallon and Brendon make out and cuddle again right next to him. Well, technically next to Gerard, but still.

Frank rolled his eyes the second he saw the two whispering into each other’s ears, one giggling after the other, trying to stifle it away from the others. Frank didn’t even want to _know_ what was going on in their heads.

He reached downward to grab his backpack, his thoughts dancing around the subject of Melior, White Skull, and just the majority of how he feels like he needs to wake up in the middle of the night to get to his job. Habit, perhaps.

Frank unzipped his backpack, reaching for his phone. But he remembered how he’d dumped it into that hotel bathroom to prevent his father from tracking him down. Frank groaned out loud, rousing Gerard from his sleep beside him.

Gerard rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. “What’s up, Frank?” he whispered, the dark reflecting how his golden-hazel eyes shine. Frank shook his head, hand still stuffed inside his backpack.

“Go back to sleep, Gerard,” Frank whispered back, hand shifting in the bag to find something to distract him for a while.  His eyes widened as his fingers grazed against an unfamiliar, thick, piece of glossy paper.

Frank waited for Gerard to look away before he hastily takes out the piece of paper. When he did, his heart started hammering in his chest.

He unfolded the photo, eyes dancing over it over and over again. It doesn’t make sense. In the picture, was a boy he recognized as his sixteen year old self, eye still clean from the slash wound, lip piercing still new and red, eyes rimmed with black liner, and fists covered in black fingerless gloves.

Yet he was too scared to guess who the woman standing beside him was.

They were smiling, as if in mid-laugh, the woman’s arm around his shoulder in so much more than a loving way. They had the same jawline, and almost the same height.

Frank couldn’t remember there was even a time in his sixteen year old life that he was ever that happy. Maybe he couldn’t remember anything from that time?

_I don’t, I don’t recognize her…_

_Do I?_

_I…_

Frank fell asleep with his fingers clutching the photograph in hand. In the middle of the night, around two or three AM in the morning, his eyes jolted opened as his back straightened up, breath caught in loud gasps, sweat running down his eyebrows as he clutched his hammering heart.

His eyes darted around him wildly. He was relieved to see the car being his surroundings, Brendon and Dallon sleeping against each other, Ray, seemingly lifeless by the passenger’s seat, and Gerard next to him snoring quietly under his breath, arms folded across his chest.

The car started going off course, rolling into a stop by the side of the highway. “Frank? Are you okay?”

Frank looked up to see a very sleep deprived Mikey, eyes filled with so much worry and shock it’s almost contagious. Frank nodded, hand still over his heart. “Yeah, just—nightmares…” Frank mumbled.

Mikey gave him a knowing look. “Sorry Mikey,” Frank muttered an apology before he pulled his hood above his head, leaning back against the plush car seat. Mikey shot him a smile as he turned his face away, slowly stepping on the accelerator to start moving once more.

Frank’s eyes casted downward once more at the photograph in his hand, luminescent street lights revealing so much more of the image in his limb.

_I know her. I do._

Frank soon realized the woman in the picture was indeed named Linda Iero and she was his mother.

* * *

 

It is exactly 03.03 in the morning.

Andy Biersack is still in his dimly lit laboratory. His white sleeves were tainted with dry blood, but it wasn’t even his.

He was doubled over by the desk, sobbing quietly to himself about how much of a failure he was. He screamed on the top of his lungs, arm swept over the desk, paperwork and glass beakers shattering into a million pieces as it made contact with the floor.

“Useless!” He screamed, looking down at the side of his one hand, littered with cuts from the broken glass. “Useless. I am _useless_.” He whispered to himself, head banging on the desktop.

* * *

 

When Andy Biersack was young, he wondered what his father did for a living. Hell, his father never told him anything regarding his job.

When he was around twenty, his father welcomed him into his office for the first time, explaining, brainwashing him with all the things he does for a living into his son’s head, one who thinks that it was forehand _disgusting_ to be hunting down indigos. Ones that had never done anyone else harm.

He’d shook his head and threw a nasty glare at his father, mouthing a very disgusted scowl with his lips. His father had let him go, eyes scanning the grounds beneath him, borderline _ashamed_ his son has rejected his legacy.

About a few months later, Andy saw a bullet pierce his mother’s head. Straight through her head, blood splattering around their dining table. Everything seemed to have slowed down. Andy was screaming, clutching his dying—nay, _dead_ —mother, in his thin, frail arms.

His father had a soon as that came home, running toward the dining room, where the shouts was coming from, and told Andy that Rian Dawson, the wretched indigo, had killed his mother.

About a year later, Andy met up with his friend, the _indigo_ , Kellin Quinn. Oh how disgusting it was to even call such his ‘friend’. He’d say how Kellin would help him track down Dawson, find him, lead him to Andy, just for him to cut the kill.

Of course Kellin has so much _disappointed_ Andy, resulting in his gruesome death by the city hall, and of course, bound by the new law, the indigo sweeps every three or so months.

Andy had walked into the New Jersey Melior Headquarters with so much pride that afternoon, banging his father’s office door opened, grinning viciously, hands trembling, teeth glimmering under the LED lights illuminating the confined space as Andy muttered an animalistic “I’m in on your business, dad.”

* * *

 

As soon as they made it into Washington, the whole gang was all done for the day. Catching up on sleep in a moving car isn’t something recommended, they’ve all known now.

Gerard was yawing constantly when they arrived at the destined hotel, eyes barely staying open ad Ray marched into the reception desk and asked for three rooms. One for Frank and him to share, one for Brendon and Dallon, the last one for Mikey and Gerard to share.

Gerard had said that he didn’t give two shits about who he had to share a hotel room with, and he just needed to sleep and rest his eyelids.

It has been roughly three hours after they checked into the hotel. The other boys were fast asleep like babies, meanwhile Frank, was restless.

It was still so bright outside, the sunset just beginning to take place, blanketing the horizon with shades of orange, yellow, and red. Frank had nothing else to do but stare at the photograph of his mother in his hands.

Frank had spent almost an hour just figuring out what else he remembered of his beloved mother. Did he remember any fun times he had with her back when he was a child? Why cant he remember any of them? Sixteen years while his mother was alive, and he couldn’t even remember a single moment when she cradled him in her arms, or when she comforted him when he was crying? Nothing. Frank sighed, standing up from his bed and grabbing his backpack by the floor.

Frank rummaged through his belongings, finding a fresh new pair of underwear and a shirt. He sniffed them to make sure they didn’t smell before he stripped from his current clothes and changed into the new ones.

He seemed content with how he was dressed for the day, so he resumed stuffing his hand into his backpack and taking out a good wad of cash.

There was so much that Frank needed to buy (well, not really) but he’d have to be quick and subtle about it. So first he went for the very first priority of his young adult self, and decided to go to the electronics store to buy a new phone.

He glanced backward to check on Ray who was still sleeping ever so soundly by the bed, and walked out of the hotel room. It would just take him a few minutes to purchase a new phone and get back here, right? He’d be back before it even gets dark.


	20. Chapter Nineteen

Gerard sat in his hotel room, eyes opened wide, staring down at his hands.

His dyed red hair was soaked with sweat, a few strands sticking to his forehead like it was hair-magnet. He was wide awake, head processing every bit of the nightmare he just jolted awake from. His eyes scanned every callous and lines of his fingerprints, the very skin that can ignite deadly flames that’s taken lives before.

_No. no no no._

Gerard shut his eyes, as if this was all an illusion, as if he was just a mundane young adult trying to indulge in a vacation with his friends and brother. But no. reality hurts more than it actually has to be. The gruesome, evil spiral of days and moments he calls as his life, his volition and his intricate way of thoughts. All just a painful reality he can’t wait to sleep off with a few sleeping pills.

But why is he still here? Why can’t he just play it off as safe, get a job, and act like a _normal_ person for once in hi boring, complicated life? Sure, he’d accidentally set fire to a few paper cups when he decided to join in with Mikey and his barista life.

After that incident, Gerard was forced to retire from the normal life he so much wanted, in trade for the safety of Ray and Mikey’s existence, until he’d learn how to control his powers.

_When will he learn how to control his powers?_

Gerard’s eyes snapped opened when he heard Mikey’s bed creak. Gerard thought he’d awaken his baby brother from his slumber. But he hasn’t. Mikey was tossing and turning in his sleep, brows stitched together as if he was in pain.

Mikey was almost close to never having nightmares, every time he detected a nightmare, he would flee himself into someone else’s dream. But right now, Gerard wasn’t dreaming, so Mikey can’t enter anyone else’s dream, and he was on his own.

Gerard almost felt bad for his baby brother.

Being cursed with indigo powers and abnormalities when Gerard knew just how much Mikey wanted to go to college, get a solid, paying job, and maybe play a little music.

But no, all those dreams died when he decided to escape the track of his life to tend to Gerard’s needs. And Gerard never even _thanked_ Mikey for it.

Gerard stood on his feet, skin shuffling against the carpeted floor as he inched closer to the side of Mikey’s bed.

Bending on his knees, he made soft, shushing noises while his hand reached out to stroke the side of Mikey’s face. Something he’d do all the time back when they were kids, back when he didn’t know all this was possible. A nasty feeling rose in the back of Gerard’s mind. Maybe it was from seeing his only family member struggle with his own thoughts?

Maybe it was something else.

Whatever it was, Gerard felt like something bad was going to happen.

“It’s okay, Mikes, just a nightmare…” Gerard whispered into his ear, hand not stopping at the small circular motions he had going on.

Mikey’s eyes fluttered open, the brown pools of his irises meeting with his brother’s hazel.

“Gee…?” Mikey whispered, before closing his eyes and falling back to sleep.

* * *

 

Frank walked out of the electronics store, hand clutching his new phone. The one he’d already set and activated in the store, which took him roughly two hours in the store getting all the details he needed. Right now it was already dark, and Frank didn’t want to walk back to the hotel half blinded.

Frank stared down at the pavements, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. He didn’t feel the sudden grab to his shoulders.

Frank’s eyes leaped upward, fists already balled as he tossed a cross toward the taller man before him. The man blocked his sudden, half-assed effort of a cross, holding the fist in his hand.

“Whoa dude, not the kind of greeting I aimed for,” the stranger chuckled, eyes hooded under his black cap, but Frank knew who he was.

“Jack?” He whispered.

Jack Barakat threw a small salute at Frank, whose fist relaxed under his best friend’s touch.

“What are you doing here?”

“Shh, not now, not here,” Jack looked both ways before he slipped in a note into the palm of Frank’s hand. “Call me at this number, make sure your location isn’t trackable, we’ll talk again soon.”

Frank grabbed the side of Jack’s arm before he could walk away.

“I don’t understand, why are you--?”

“Shh,” Jack motioned again with a finger, smiling under the dark shadows of his camouflage.

“We’ll talk soon, trust me.”

Jack shrugged away from Frank’s grip, eyes scanning the road before he ran across the street, into a dark alleyway.

Frank was going to run after him, but then his thoughts caught on something.

He choked on his saliva, coughing as he hacked for air.

He knew something bad had happened. He just does.

“Gerard.” Frank muttered under his breath, eyes widening as he scanned the dark clouds looming over his head.

“Oh shit.”

Frank started sprinting his way back into the hotel.

* * *

 

Frank rushed upstairs, taking the fire exit, up to the floor where he and his friends were staying.

Frank knocked on Gerard’s door frantically.

He awaited seconds before he saw Gerard appear before him, door swung opened. Frank’s eyes widened at the sight.

_No, not Gerard. Who?_

Frank shook his head as he rushed down the hallway, Gerard exclaiming his name, asking him what was going on.

_Ray._

Frank cursed under his breath, taking out his room key card and hastily unlocked the door, fist meeting with the doorknob as he pushed it opened.

The window was opened.

A figure was on the window, Ray flung over their shoulder, unconscious.

Eyes as bright as lights shot daggers at Frank before they plunged down out the window.

“No!” Frank exclaimed, borderline screaming, rushing to the window that was pried open.

Frank reached out a hand, yanking at the golden ribbons of his power in his mind, hand creating an illusion as he tried to catch the stranger mid-air.

The figure looked back at him, eyes smug, moving so fluidly, like water.

Frank met the figure’s eyes, almost as if to say, _I’m here, you’re here. Watch what I can do._

And they broke free from Frank’s spell, taking out a vial of something blue and liquid-like, they threw it in Frank’s direction.

It entered the window as Frank was sent flying backward, mind sent numb, almost dead as he started to drift into a seizure on the hotel floor, hand still reaching out to the window.

“R-Ra-ay…” He tried saying, as the last he saw was Gerard looking down at him. Frank fell into nothingness, eyes still wide opened, head still spinning, but unconscious. His mind was dead. There were no voices telling him what to do.

He doesn’t remember to have ever been this _quiet_ in his head.

Had he lost his abnormality?

Is this what it's like to be dead?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- XoXvl


End file.
